


Nights in White Satin

by one_go_alone



Series: Nights and Days [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Business, Business Trip, Developing Relationship, Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Off-screen Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Romance, Secret Relationship, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_go_alone/pseuds/one_go_alone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uchiha Itachi had always known the list of things his family and station did not allow him to do, and he had always been careful to follow it. He was quite certain, for instance, that falling in love with a complete stranger after a one-night-stand in New Orleans in the middle of Mardi Gras would be near the top of that list…and so he couldn’t quite figure out why he was doing it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Orleans, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha, okay. So. There's been some interest over on Tumblr recently for me to get this fic up here so that it's a little bit easier to find/bookmark/etc. This is NOT a new fic (I first wrote it back in...2005, dear god), but it's new to AO3. I've read through it and made a few grammar/wording tweaks here and there, but no major changes. It actually holds up decently, I guess, even a decade later. >.>;; (I'm [over here on Tumblr](http://one-go-alone.tumblr.com/) as well these days, btw.)
> 
> For anyone who has already read and enjoyed it: here you go! For anyone who might be new to it: I hope you enjoy it! (Just remember that this was 10-years-ago-me writing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Okay, I bring a fic. It's going to be a few chapters long, but I can't promise fast updates...I really shouldn't be starting a new story at all right now, but this got stuck in my head and I've been craving KisaIta for weeks now. Enjoy, just don't ask me where it came from. Oh, and I know nothing about New Orleans or Mardi Gras, so pardon any inaccuracies. XD

Itachi wound his way through the mass of swaying bodies, ink-black eyes narrowed slightly against the glitter of bright lights on brilliant costumes, painted skin and false jewels. He knew that he must stand out like a sore thumb, wearing black from head to toe in old New Orleans in the middle of Mardi Gras, but he didn’t care. 

Finally unable to take the press of the laughing, singing, drunken crowd anymore, he slipped over to the edge of the wide street, into the open doorway of what turned out to be a bar and dance club. 

It was nearly as packed as the streets, of course, but the movement was confined largely to the dance floor. The colors here were muted, too; instead of the bright green-gold-purple of the streets, here there were dark forest greens, blacks and dull yellow, entwined with flashes of silver and patches of red like fresh-spilled blood. Itachi edged around the dancing, feeling the almost hypnotic pull of the music catch him too as the deep beat throbbed out of invisible speakers, through the building and into his bones. He ignored it, finally making his way to the bar. 

Surprisingly, there was an open space next to the wall, and he slipped into it, grateful not to have people pressed so close around him. He ordered a martini from the bartender, and promptly ignored it as soon as it was set in front of him. He wasn’t sure why he’d come out here. It wasn’t to drink…something about the glitter and music of the old city and older celebration had called to him, he supposed, and it was better than sitting bored back in his hotel room, trying to sleep. 

He stirred his drink absently, letting dark eyes drift over the room, not acknowledging the desire to sway with the music at all as he leaned against the wall behind him in near-stillness. He felt an odd mixture of pity and envy of his fellow men tonight…pity that such cheap pleasures as getting drunk were their idea of a celebration, but envy for the idea of celebration and pleasure in general.

Back in his normal life as a good, upstanding son working for his father’s company, he didn’t have much time for either. He wouldn’t have been here tonight at all, save for an emergency business conference he’d had to attend in his father’s place. Hastily made plane arrangements had left him with an extra day and night in the Louisiana city, and he’d been too restless to not take advantage of the city’s famous March festival.

The costumes, he mused, were entertaining. _How did that song go? ‘Masquerade…paper faces on parade…masquerade…look around, there’s another mask behind you….’ He let a dark smile creep on to his face. A clown here, a snake there, harlots everywhere…there went a vampire, here comes a ghost…a Roman in his tunic, a queen in her gown…._ His seat wasn’t really so far from the dance floor, after all, and gave him a clear if ever-changing picture of color and movement and flashing gems.

Blue. 

Blue became the focus of his vision, blue and grey and silver and black…cool colors, that served superficially to distract and calm the dimly raging fires of brighter colors around them….

From behind a blue and silver mask of some bizarre sea creature that Itachi couldn’t identify, a pair of piercing, blue-grey eyes caught his. The man stilled a moment on the edge of the crowd, his costume swirling around him; long sweeps of silver and grey cloth, shimmering reminiscent of scales, swept down from his shoulders and sleeves over a billowing shirt of deeper blue and black pants that fit close to strong legs. 

Itachi felt the music’s pull all over again as a new song began, the bass of this one throbbing even deeper, and blue-grey eyes added to it the siren call of a storm-tossed sea that he couldn’t look away from….

He realized that he had risen and was moving forward only when the man extended a hand to him. He looked away from eyes he was drowning in to see the man’s wide, white grin below the edge of his mask. Was it just a trick of the light, or did his teeth seem sharper than normal…?

And then Itachi couldn’t think anymore, for he had accepted a hand covered in an odd glove that stretched cloth webbing between strong fingers, and had been pulled into the swaying, swirling crowd. 

The man took his other hand as well, but did not move to touch him more. Startled and unsure of what the hell he was doing, even now, Itachi made the mistake of looking up at his partner.

He was drowning again, and gave into the throbbing beat of the music without another thought. 

_This,_ he thought distantly as he moved around and back and towards and around his partner, still touching only his hands. 

_This,_ he thought as his heart began to beat in time with the music.

 _This,_ as the room, already dim, began to fade even more, and the swirl of color and people became distant, until only the movement of his body and the firm grip of hands on his were real.

_This is what I was looking for tonight…a way to forget and to feel that wasn’t cheap and wasn’t the bottom of a bottle…this is what I wanted, needed…._

But even more, _this_ …when his unknown partner carefully spun him around, drawing him just a little bit closer, so that he was holding Itachi’s arms crossed over his chest and Itachi could feel warm breath on his hair. 

Time slowed down, Itachi supposed, because it felt like he danced there for hours, with this bizarre creature come up out of the sea showing him how to sway and bend as if with an ocean current, how to swirl and spin as if caught up in deep whirlpools, how to need the feel of movement more than air over his skin….

The sudden stillness when the music was turned off for the night nearly made Itachi gasp, his whole body instantly aching with the loss of beat to move with. The crowd had already begun its movement towards the door, though, and would not allow him to stay still. He moved forward reluctantly, scarcely aware that his partner was still next to him until a gloved hand took his again and pulled him on. He did not protest. 

Out in the street, though, the glitter was as bright as ever, the crowd as thick, and Itachi shied away from it, instinctively following his guide away from the light and noise into darker streets. 

They stopped a few blocks away, and the other man let his hand go. Itachi stared at him in silence, making an effort to study the mask and costume and so avoid the dangerous eyes. 

_He has blue hair,_ Itachi thought absently, catching a good sight of it over the top of the mask for the first time. The dim light of a distant street lamp was just enough to see by. 

“What brings you to Mardi Gras?” The man’s voice, low and polite, was startling from behind the bizarre mask. Itachi forgot not to look up, and was quickly trapped in his eyes again.

“To forget,” he heard himself whispering, “and to feel.”

The creature/man nodded, slowly. “You dance beautifully.”

“You showed me how.” It was the truth, though he didn’t know why.

“Shall I show you more?” 

Itachi jerked his eyes away, looking at the ground, ignoring the jolt the man’s words gave him. If he was breathing hard, it was only leftover from the dancing, he told himself. If he felt flushed and too warm, it was because he wore long sleeves on such a warm night. 

He sensed more than saw the white grin. You must be careful if you swim with sharks, some distant voice in his mind whispered, or you’ll be devoured. 

“Take off your mask, and I’ll show you more,” the man said again, just as soft, still calm and inviting.

“I’m not wearing a mask,” Itachi replied, absent and wary.

“No? It seems to me that you are. You look away from me, to hide something. But do you wish to hide it from me or from yourself?”

 _From myself,_ Itachi replied silently. But he glanced back up, all the same. 

“I shall take off my mask, if you shall take off yours.” Where this new boldness came from, he didn’t know…couldn’t care.

A chuckle, warm and dark. “Why don’t we take each other’s masks off?” 

Itachi, feeling surreal in a surreal world, stepped forward slowly, one foot carefully in front of the other, learning to move on dry land again. He stopped in front of this odd man, raised a hand without hesitation to the nearly grotesque mask, and slipped it off, tossing it down to the street. 

He was not beautiful as Itachi knew himself to be, and not even handsome in any normal sense of that word…and yet was somehow more stunning than any man or woman Itachi had ever seen. 

It was the eyes, those depthless eyes that were so easy to drown in….

Again, the wide grin, and a gentle hand taking his firmly. “Come then.”

Itachi followed once more, unquestioning, as they moved through dark and silent streets to a small wooden building that looked as though it had stood since the city was first built. They went in through a quietly creaking front door, past the deserted front desk, up old wooden stairs, four flights, and down a long, low hall to a room at the back of the building. 

This door opened silently, and Itachi slid inside, listened and watched without feeling as the stranger closed and locked the door behind them. Old curtains over the window blocked only part of the light from the streetlamp outside, and by that light Itachi could see a little of the room.

A small, rickety desk and chair, a small modern suitcase lying closed and looking out of place in the corner, a lamp on the nightstand that remained off, the wrought-iron bed, larger than he had expected, covered in plain, white cotton sheets…these were the entirety of a room tucked under the eaves of the old boardinghouse. 

Rustling cloth made him turn. The man had discarded gloves and drapings, stood simply in his pants and shirt, face calm and one eyebrow quirked in unspoken question. 

Itachi did not let himself stop to remember all the things he had come here to forget, did not let the numbness overtake all the things he had come here to feel. He nodded once.

Strong arms slid around him, pressed him close to a hard, well-muscled body, and Itachi let his head fall back, met eager lips with his own. He let his hands roam, feeling, over the blue shirt and under it, over smooth skin and hard muscle; he did not protest when strong, nimble fingers persuaded him back long enough to take off his own clothing, untie his hair, and to push him gently onto the bed. He lay still, raven black hair fanned out around his head, and kept his breathing even, trying not to whimper from the unbearable aching need for movement that was overtaking him again. 

And then the hands were back, tracing over his skin, a hot mouth pressed once more to his own, and that hard, strong body had settled over his, letting him feel for once with every inch of himself, forcing the numbness to recede.

Itachi opened midnight eyes to meet blue-grey once more…and this time he let himself sink into them, and be swept away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >.> The "Masquerade" lyrics that Itachi muses about are (obviously) from Andrew Lloyd Weber's Phantom of the Opera. 
> 
> I'll try to get the whole thing up today, but a few chapters might go up tomorrow if I get tired of formatting. |D
> 
> My beta for this was the lovely [leathansparrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leathansparrow).


	2. New Orleans, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Well, since everyone enjoyed the first bit, here's chapter 2. Have fun...

Itachi wasn’t sure what woke him first – the bright morning sunlight that was creeping slowly up the bed from the window, or the low humming of the room’s other occupant, who was standing next to the now-open suitcase pulling on a white t-shirt over hair that was, indeed, a deep, even blue.

Blinking for a few seconds against the light, he cautiously pushed himself up until he could lean back against the bars of the bedstead. He ached a little all over, but nothing too painful, and a cautious stretch helped to ease some of his taut muscles. He let his eyes drift over the room, which looked its age even more in the light of day, revealing a wood floor and walls that were faded with years and too much sunlight, cracked here and there from the constant expansion and contraction of summer humidity in New Orleans. He absently ran a hand through his long hair, wincing at the tangles it found. Something on the nightstand caught his eye, and he picked up the comb with a thoughtful frown at the other man, who glanced over and smiled slightly before kneeling to rummage more in his suitcase. 

Itachi, not sure what to make of that (not sure what to make of any of this, really…) carefully combed the tangles out of his hair, then leaned over to grab his discarded hair-tie off the nightstand as well. 

Hair once again out of his way, he eased himself out from under the thin, white sheet and went over to where his clothes had been folded on the desk chair, feeling surprisingly unselfconscious. Black, all of it, seeming more out of place here in the bright room than it had last night amongst all the glitter. He shrugged mentally. He hadn’t ever cared much for clothes…he wore suits so much of the time anyway that it hardly seemed worth it to fuss over the rest of his wardrobe. When he had pulled on his shirt, buttoned it up and tucked it neatly back into the waistband of his jeans, he finally turned to look at his…partner.

Blue-grey eyes, still hypnotic even in full sunlight, were watching him with what he would have called “impersonal curiosity,” except that “impersonal” wasn’t really the right word. It was a _personal_ look, but…

“What is your name?” Itachi asked after a moment of silence had passed between them. 

That got him a grin full of strong white teeth that (for the most part) were not abnormally sharp, though they still gave that impression. 

“Kisame.”

“Kisame…” Itachi tried it, thoughtful. Now threading a belt around the waist of his dark blue jeans, Kisame didn’t look away. 

“And what is yours?”

“Itachi,” he replied automatically, started to add his last name, and then stopped. That wasn’t necessary and besides, he didn’t want that here. Didn’t want the _Uchiha_ , and all that that implied, here; just himself, if only this once. 

“Itachi,” Kisame mused over the name, even pronouncing it right. “It’s an interesting name. All bitter-sounding and hard with sharp edges everywhere…like you. And yet….” 

Itachi blinked, couldn’t quite decide if he should frown or not. It hadn’t sounded like an insult…just an evaluation that was perhaps a little too close to the truth for his comfort. “‘And yet’ what?” he couldn’t help asking.

“It’s an interesting contradiction, Itachi-san,” Kisame went on, shrugging on a loose, green button-up shirt over his t-shirt before moving closer to Itachi, who was startled at the polite suffix; startled that the man was astute enough to know he was Japanese, and that he spoke the language himself. 

“A contradiction, for I see that your name suits you, hard and sharp and bitter…and yet you were none of these things last night.” His voice was soft, and the eyes this time were contemplative. Itachi looked away only with great effort, and couldn’t think of anything to say. Kisame lifted one hand, lightly traced the faint lines under his eyes, and then let it fall away as Itachi turned his back sharply. 

The full impact of what he had done was beginning to sink in now, and he swallowed hard against an uncomfortable mixture of rising emotions. He was about to dig his watch out of his pocket to find the time, when a strong arm slid around his waist and pulled him back hard against Kisame’s chest. He barely stopped his gasp at the feel of warm lips on the side of his neck, and almost missed that the man’s other hand had slipped something into his pocket. 

“When you want me again, call. I’ll find you.” Low, warm words, murmured nearly in his ear and this time he did gasp, though whether more from the sensation or the implication, he couldn’t say. Another warm kiss on his neck, and then Kisame had moved around him, suitcase closed and in hand, and did not stop or look back until he was standing in the doorway. Then, he glanced over his shoulder one more time with hypnotic ocean eyes and that shark-like grin, before turning and disappearing down the hall. 

Itachi stood frozen there for long minutes, trying to force his heartbeat into a more normal pace. His hand slid involuntarily into his pocket, long fingers curling almost desperately around the small piece of paper. He took it out, unfolded it with a hand that _not_ shaking, dammit! …but only allowed himself the barest glance at the phone number written starkly there in black ink before folding it again and shoving it back into his pocket. 

At the first trash can, he thought, he would throw it away. 

Delving into his other pocket, he finally pulled out his watch. 10:23. Good, he had plenty of time to get back to his hotel room, get his things and get to airport to catch his flight to New York. He was to stay in New York and fill the office there in on the details of the deal he had made yesterday – was it only yesterday? – before flying back to Tokyo, since his family was currently living in their Japanese residence (they had another home in New York, and he had lived in both countries throughout his childhood). 

He left the room with nary a backward glance, strode purposefully down the long hallway and stairs, was relieved to find no one at the front desk, and slipped out into the streets. He got directions back to his hotel and set off briskly for a shower and a change of clothes, his mind already working on putting the whole of last night into a forgotten back corner, where it could be locked away and never remembered again. 

He didn’t know why he had done it. It was too cliché to even think about, really – a one-night-stand with a complete stranger in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. (A complete stranger he could, conceivably, see again…) That thought he pushed aside almost before it had time to register. No. It was bad enough that it had happened at all; to consider compounding his transgression was unthinkable. He supposed it would have been better if he had been drunk, had at least that much of an excuse…but truthfully, it had just been carelessness. Usually he had better sense than to go out when he was in strange moods like that. Shaking his head, he pushed all such thoughts away. It had been an aberration, and would definitely not happen again. 

If he noticed that a certain piece of paper stayed in his pocket even after he had passed several trash cans, he pushed that thought away as well.


	3. Singapore, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 3. A bit more explanation in this one...though you'll hate me for ending it where I did. XD

That same piece of paper remained, two years later, though it was no longer in his pocket. He had hidden it quickly as soon as he had gotten home, and had then largely succeeding in consciously forgetting that it existed at all. If he happened to notice that it was never lost, thrown away or even left behind when he traveled, he succeeded quite well in forgetting that too. 

Forgetting was something Itachi had gotten very good at, over the years. He was good at forgetting the numbness his dull, rarely-changing day-to-day life brought. He was good at forgetting the mind-fogging boredom he felt sitting in board meetings with his father, was good at forgetting that he was nearly ready to kill someone, just for the chance to do something different. He was good at forgetting that he might even have enjoyed business as a career, if he hadn’t been forced into it by his father. He was good at forgetting that he had once dreamed of living his own life and being happy, and was even better at forgetting those few bright spots that reminded him of those dreams – the pain that followed those was hard to forget, even for Itachi. He was even good at forgetting the few times he had broken (always secretly and guiltily) the long list of rules he was supposed to follow to remain a good son to his father and an ‘upstanding’ businessman in the eyes of his father’s peers (not a _good_ businessman, necessarily, just an ‘upstanding’ one, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean). 

His greatest transgression ever in this regard – a lone night of passion nearly two years past that remained his secret to this day – also brought him the greatest pride of all the things he had been able to forget.

Or at least, that he was able to convince himself that he had forgotten. If brief flashes of guilt over the continued existence of a certain piece of paper happened more than he liked, well he could ignore them easily enough, just as he ignored the paper itself. It wasn’t as though he’d ever called the number written on it, and if he’d gone a whole two years then it wasn’t likely that it would ever happen. 

Or so he told himself, whenever a particularly vivid dream brought back things he had forgotten, especially that one of a low, warm voice saying, ‘When you want me again….’   
_When_ , not _if_ , and the certainty of that made something inside Itachi tremble, even now. So he insisted to himself that it had been two whole years, or close enough, and that after this it would only get easier to ignore.

This, he supposed later, was why he hadn’t been careful when he was channel-surfing.

It was March, and he was in Singapore on a prolonged business trip. Fortunately his father had finished up the important part of the discussions the day before and had departed, leaving Itachi to finish up the details. This meant that Itachi could feel safe in relaxing a little, but he hadn’t felt like wandering around the city tonight. 

He almost wished he had, because he had finished his book and was now left to flip boredly through the channels on his hotel room’s TV. 

_Boring…boring…even more boring...._ Sighing and realizing that the news was the only thing likely to be of even mild interest, he flipped on until he found some news stations. The hotel was very modern, and had provided its guests with access to the news stations of several different countries. Itachi preferred the British and the American news networks himself – the British because they were fairly comprehensive about reporting things, and the Americans because they were entertaining, and (on rare occasions) more insightful than their international counterparts. 

He watched the British station just long enough to pick up the important world events he needed to be aware of, and flipped on to the American station. A smiling woman spoke at length into the camera about a variety of issues, most not of international interest, and so Itachi was only half-awake when the picture on the screen switched to that of a huge, glittering crowd, dancing and singing as they pressed and swayed between old wooden houses and down wide streets. 

Mardi Gras. 

He woke up enough to blink at the screen, watching with mostly-detached curiosity the crowd that, outwardly at least, seemed identical to the one he’d found himself caught in on that business trip a couple of years ago-

And all of a sudden, it came flooding back; every detail of that hot, passionate, breathtaking night was once again imprinted in his mind as if it had happened only moments before, and Itachi caught his breath sharply. 

He snapped the television off as soon as he could think clearly again, but the damage had been done, and the sudden silence and stillness of the room were nearly unbearable. His own stillness _was_ unbearable. His life was so much the same, day in and day out, that no matter how many things he did it always felt like he was standing still…he had tried to conquer it by taking over most of the international travel required for the running of the family business, and had done his best to forget that even that wasn’t really working all that well anymore. But what else was there? Only once in his life had he felt as though his motion was real and truly purposeful and not merely a pale imitation…only once had he been able to feel fully alive…only one man had shown him that.

He had risen from the bed and crossed the room to his briefcase without realizing it, and was standing in the middle of the room with a small piece of paper in one hand and his cell phone in the other before he thought to stop himself. 

But he had already dialed the number, and it was too late. 

_Calm down,_ he told himself. _It won’t matter. He’ll probably have gotten a new phone and number long before now, anyway._

When the first ring picked up to contradict that theory, he still shook his head and forced his hand to quit shaking. _The number will have changed; it probably belongs to someone else now, so it still won’t matter._

He had nearly convinced himself of that, too, so by the time the phone on the other end was answered, he wasn’t quite prepared for the quiet, polite voice asking, “Hello?”

He knew that voice. It had murmured to him in a dark bedroom, soothing even as its owner had stolen Itachi’s own breath and voice away, leaving them both passion-exhausted on a bed under soft, white cotton sheets.

“Kisame.” He heard his own voice distantly, heard it low and dark, full of the knowledge that he had _not_ forgotten, hadn’t been _able_ to forget this man and everything that implied…

There was a short pause, and a sharp, indrawn breath so faint that Itachi supposed he must have imagined it. Then came the familiar voice, just as polite and as infuriatingly calm as ever.

“Itachi-san.” Kisame greeted him simply. “Where?”

“Singapore,” Itachi replied, barely above a whisper, his empty hand clenching so tightly into a fist that he was sure his nails must have drawn blood.

“All right.” There was no pause at all this time, and he could almost hear the grin in Kisame’s next words. “I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

Then the line went dead, and Itachi brought his phone down in front of his face to stare at it disbelievingly. He hadn’t really just done that…had he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) Bwahahah...*coughs* Erm...yes. XD Feedback is cool. Enjoy!


	4. Singapore, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 4. I'm late with this one...but it's longer, and I think you'll find it was worth the wait. ;)

The knowledge that he was going to see Kisame again gave him such a mixture of anxiety and odd but undeniable relief that Itachi could barely concentrate on his business meetings the next day. Though outwardly it was easy enough to maintain the smooth, blankly polite expression he always wore, inwardly his thoughts drifted, and he had to jerk his attention back to the current conversation so many times that he nearly snarled at himself in frustration. 

_What does it matter, anyway? So what if he’s coming? It just means that I’ll see him again. It doesn’t mean that we’ll-_ Itachi clenched his hands tightly together under the table, and leaned forward slightly to catch what the man across from him was saying about the recent price rise on the stock exchange.

When his last meeting got out and he had politely said good-bye and shaken hands all around, he forced himself to walk at a normal pace out of the conference room of the corporation they were making a deal with, down the hall and into the elevator. He forced himself to hold perfectly still the whole ride down to the first floor, and to walk calmly once again outside to call for a taxi to take him back to his hotel. 

Back in his room, he glanced at his watch and found it to be nearly eight o’clock, local time. He took off his shoes, hung up his jacket and loosened his tie before glancing around helplessly, not sure of what to do. He sat in a chair and tried watching TV, but nothing was interesting. He pulled out his laptop and tried to look into some of the claims that had been made today, but got bored within five minutes and gave up. Sitting still quickly became intolerable, so he rose and paced; from the chair by the desk, around the end of the bed to the window and back again. He paced for what felt like hours; a glance at the clock on the nightstand told him that it was now 8:26. He barely refrained from grimacing, stuck his hands in his pockets, and kept pacing. 

_He probably won’t come,_ he thought after awhile. _I didn’t even tell him where I was staying. How could he find me, only knowing the city I’m in? Singapore is big…_ Itachi didn’t know whether or not to be relieved at this thought. His pacing did not cease.

At 9:55, precisely, there was a light knock on the door. 

He froze in place. Then, swallowing hard, he turned and walked quickly across the room, unbolted the door and drew it open sharply. 

“Hello, Itachi-san.” Kisame was not smiling, but the deep-set, blue-grey eyes were bright with laughter. He wore blue jeans and a slate-grey dress shirt, short blue hair spiked just a little. He leaned against the doorframe as Itachi drew back involuntarily, heart racing. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Yes,” Itachi managed, glad that his voice came out evenly, and stepped back slowly, moving to the side as he did so. 

Kisame grabbed a familiar-looking small suitcase off the floor in the hall and came in. Itachi quickly shut and bolted the door behind him, and then followed him back into the main part of the room, feeling even more unsure now than he had before; he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ask Kisame to leave or to grab him for more of those long, hot kisses he was remembering so vividly…

The blue-haired man seemed unaware of his dilemma, however, and was examining the room silently, nodding with approval at what he found. Then he turned his gaze on Itachi, who was standing very straight and stiff, hands fisted in his pockets again. Kisame looked him up and down once, before raising an eyebrow at him and sighing. He knelt and opened the small suitcase and pulled out something to toss at Itachi, who caught it automatically, startled. 

“You look rather tense, Itachi-san. Go put that on, and take down your hair. Have you eaten dinner yet?” 

Itachi blinked at the other man, then shook his head, realizing that he had forgotten about eating. Kisame sighed again, almost fondly, and shooed him towards the bathroom. He went, not stopping to contemplate the bundle of fabric he had caught until he was inside with the door shut and half undressed. 

It was a robe, reminiscent of a yukata but not quite Japanese in style. It was made of dark, emerald-green silk, with an intricate Chinese dragon worked across it in black and silver. It was beautiful, and he quickly finished undressing and slipped it on with an appreciative sigh. It fit very well, which made him wonder whether or not it was Kisame’s; the other man was taller than he was and broader in the shoulders. He shook the questions away and fastened the black sash around his waist. He did hesitate briefly before slipping the tie out of his hair, but admitted that it felt better out of the tight ponytail he normally kept it in. He was surprised to discover that he _did_ feel more relaxed.

Done, he slipped out of the bathroom, glancing around quickly for Kisame. The blue-haired man was sitting at the small table, poking at a room-service tray he had ordered. When he caught sight of Itachi his eyes widened slightly, then he grinned, admiration and appreciation mingling in the smile. 

Itachi swallowed and resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair. He crossed the room quickly and sat down across from the other man, who nodded. 

“That’s much better, Itachi-san. Now eat, and maybe you’ll finish relaxing.”

He nodded, and picked through the dishes on the tray. They ate quietly for awhile, and Itachi found that his appetite had returned, in spite of the growing surrealism of the situation. They barely knew each other, hadn’t seen or spoken with each other for two years, and yet they could sit here eating together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Itachi decided that that ease was probably one of those things it was best not to think about, and went back to his meal, trying to make it longer than twenty seconds before sneaking another glance at the other man. Kisame, on the other hand, seemed to alternate between concentrating on his food and giving Itachi brief but unconcealed glances of interest.

“You came quickly,” Itachi said abruptly.

Kisame glanced up at him and smiled before picking up his glass of water. “Yes. I wasn’t busy.”

“What if you had been?” Itachi couldn’t help asking. 

Blue-grey eyes rose to catch his, letting him see the carefully leashed desire there. “I would have made myself available.” 

“Oh.” Itachi set down his chopsticks and rose, deciding that he wasn’t hungry anymore. He went over to the window, pulling open the curtains to look down on the brightly-lit, bustling city, ignoring the intense gaze that lingered on him. 

He knew that Kisame had risen only when the taller man’s reflection joined his in the window. He felt his heartbeat pick up again with the man’s proximity, and reached up to pull the curtains closed; he turned around then, eyes on the floor, trying to ignore the ache that was slowly building inside him. 

He slipped past the other man, but stopped just a few steps away and whirled to face him, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He tried to glare, knew that it didn’t conceal his own wanting when he got a sharp grin and laughing eyes in return. 

Kisame crossed the distance between them and pulled them flush up against each other, running large, nimble hands over the warm silk on Itachi’s back, massaging away the lingering tension. Itachi let his hands slide up to Kisame’s shoulders, twisting into the fabric there, and refused to let himself gasp at the heat the half-caress, half-massage was giving him.

It lasted only a moment, though, before he had to look up, had to tangle a hand in the blue hair and pull Kisame’s head down for a demanding, open-mouthed kiss, unable to hold himself back any longer. The taller man gave in immediately, arms slipping tighter around his back, his warm tongue eagerly meeting Itachi’s in a battle that left them both gasping when they broke apart. 

“God _damn_ you,” Itachi murmured savagely as Kisame bent to lick and nip at the side of his neck, though he didn’t know if it was directed at himself or his partner. He had to push the doubts away though, had to tilt his head back and arch closer to the man in search of the movement and friction he wasn’t getting…

Kisame’s low chuckle resonated through him. “Two years is a long time, Itachi. Perhaps if you had called sooner, you wouldn’t need me this badly.”

“I do not _need_ you,” Itachi hissed, glaring a protest even through his pleasure. “Desire, yes, but not _need_.”

Kisame drew back enough to look him in the eyes, thoughtful for a brief moment. Then a wicked smirk quirked his lips as he leaned down to kiss the side of Itachi’s neck. “No, you’re right. You don’t need me…yet.” Before Itachi even had time to blink in protest, a warm tongue trailed up his neck so that the low, warm voice could whisper in his ear,   
“When you are on your knees and _begging_ …then, you will _need_ me.”

Itachi’s eyes opened very wide for the instant before Kisame kissed him again, hot and hungry, and he couldn’t help moaning into the kiss, part of him rebelling against the other man’s words and the other part of him desperately aroused by them. 

When they stopped, with Kisame’s hands still running over him possessively and his still tangled in Kisame’s hair, he whispered the only thing that both sides of him could agree to, half-challenge, half-request:

“Prove it.”

And Kisame smiled, that slow, wide grin, and whispered “With pleasure,” before stepping back. He began taking off his shirt, undoing the buttons carefully and one-at-a-time, his eyes never leaving Itachi’s. The dark-eyed man held back against this deliberate provocation for nearly a minute, aching more than ever, before darting forward to impatiently finish undoing the buttons himself. Kisame let out a husky laugh, but did not protest as Itachi pushed the offending clothing off and ran long-fingered hands over his chest, taking in the smooth, pale skin and lightly defined muscles before tilting his head up to lick the other man’s neck.

That made Kisame’s breath hitch, just slightly, and his hands came to rest on Itachi’s waist, gripping him hard; he slid one hand in between them to tug off the robe’s belt, and slid the silk off of Itachi’s shoulders and arms before tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. He pushed Itachi away again, gently, to finish undressing himself.   
Itachi licked dry lips, and moved forward as soon as Kisame had finished, only to find a firm hand blocking his way. He looked up sharply, but his protest died at the heat and longing he read in the ocean eyes. Slowly, he stepped back, once, twice, three times until he felt the bed behind him, and lowered himself onto it, lying back onto white linen sheets, black eyes never leaving blue-grey. Kisame looked down at him before sliding in next to him, but still did not touch him except for a soft kiss that he allowed Itachi to deepen only gradually. 

Then, slowly, he reached out to run gentle, longing hands over Itachi, followed his hands with kisses, touching him everywhere but the one place he wanted, needed most to feel those hands, that mouth…and when he tried to turn the tables, tried to do the same to Kisame, the man gave in without protest, but forced Itachi to keep the same, excruciatingly slow pace, even though it left them both gasping with desire. 

“Slowly, slowly,” Kisame murmured when Itachi growled in frustration. The dark-eyed man just leaned down to kiss him, deep and hot, nipping not-at-all gently to indicate his opinion of that idea. That got him something between a chuckle and a moan, before Kisame pushed him off, rolling over to lie half on top of him and returning the bites along Itachi’s shoulder and neck. One hand trailed leisurely down his chest and stomach to finally touch him where he ached most, though his gasp was lost in the deep, still-too-slow kiss that Kisame gave him then. 

Then strong, talented hands and that hot mouth went to work at giving him everything he’d been trying to forget for the past two years…all that and so much more. They set an unhurried pace to build the already unbearable ache inside him up even higher…to leave him, at last, gasping and _begging_ , just as Kisame had promised…except that it was only just barely a defeat, because he looked into eyes gone deep blue with desire and knew that the other man had been only a fraction of a second from giving in anyway.

And finally, with his hands curled into the white linen under him, arching back against Kisame’s chest, those nimble hands still moving over him, he found once more the movement he’d spent so long searching for…the completion so right he didn’t dare try to explain it. 

He lay tangled with Kisame afterwards, didn’t protest the closeness as they both tried to catch their breath, tried to return heartbeats to a normal pace, and even let one hand drift up to run gently through short blue hair as Kisame used his shoulder in place of a pillow. 

He drifted to sleep before he could ask the question that was lingering in his mind.

He woke again, though, some hours later, to find Kisame lying on his side, head propped up on one hand, gazing down at him with some inscrutable emotion in his blue-grey eyes. Itachi blinked up at him, frowning slightly, and stretched, peeking over to the nightstand to see that it was nearly three in the morning. 

“Did I wake you?” Kisame asked quietly, reaching over to smooth a tangle of dark hair out of his face. 

Itachi shook his head. “Why were you awake?” 

“I like watching you sleep.” 

Itachi blinked at that answer. It wasn’t quite the one he’d been expecting…but it did give him the opening to the other question he wanted to ask. 

“Who are you?” 

Kisame stilled briefly, then closed his eyes and grinned wryly, shaking his head. “You know better than that.”

Itachi looked away. He did know better. In this game they were playing, that was the one thing he wasn’t allowed to ask. But, still... 

“You know who I am,” he accused, and it was not a question. He glanced back, to find Kisame giving him a thoughtful look. Then the blue-haired man sighed and lay down, turning onto his back and crossing his arms behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. 

“Maybe.”

“You do,” Itachi insisted, this time propping himself up to look over at the other man. He frowned again. “You wouldn’t have been able to find me so quickly if you didn’t know who I was.”

Kisame met his eyes for a moment, measuring, then turned back to studying the ceiling. “Perhaps, Itachi-san. Perhaps I do know who you are. Perhaps I know your full name, how old you are and what you do. Perhaps I know who your family is, where you live, and what school you went to.”

Another brief, searching glance, which turned strangely wistful as blue-grey eyes went back to the ceiling.

“Then again, Itachi-san, perhaps I know nothing more about you than you do about me. I know only your given name, which both does and does not suit you; the few belongings I have seen in one hotel room…and everything that your passion can tell me.” He reached up one hand to gently smooth away the frown between Itachi’s eyes, and gave him that same odd, wistful smile. “And maybe that really is all I know about you.”

“But…” Itachi stopped, perplexed. Then he frowned again, and lay down on his side of the bed, turning away. “You speak in riddles.”

He heard the scarcely audible chuckle. “And you _are_ a riddle, Itachi-san, so in this we are even.”

Hesitantly, Itachi turned over again when a hand touched his shoulder, and curled up into the arm Kisame slipped around his waist, not knowing why he dared to trust this man who was still so much a stranger…but knowing that he could.

They both slept then until morning.

Itachi awoke again to find sunlight on the other side of the curtains, and Kisame once again up before him, freshly showered if his wet hair were any indication, and already packing up his suitcase to leave. 

Saying nothing, Itachi got up and showered quickly, relieved to find the other man still there when he came out, fully dressed. Seeing that the green silk robe was still draped over the chair, he picked it up and took it over to Kisame, holding it out in silent reminder. 

Kisame glanced at it, then smiled and shook his head. “It’s yours, Itachi-san.”

“You…got it just for me?” Itachi didn’t know what to make of that, but Kisame just grinned at him again, and picked up the suitcase.

“Yes.” He tilted Itachi’s chin up, kissed him softly, and whispered, “When you want me again, call…” before heading for the door. One last grin over his shoulder and a quick wave, and then he was gone. 

Leaving Itachi alone to once again contemplate what he’d just done. 

If anything, last night had been even more breathtaking than the first time, and as he fingered the elegant silk in his hands, he knew that he couldn’t fool himself on this issue much longer. “When,” not “if,” was indeed the correct way of things, and it would only be a question of how long he could hold out. 

He glanced at the clock, and wondered how on earth he was going to sit through another day of meetings with the memories of last night still imprinted so freshly in his mind.

That was definitely not the sort of thing that an ‘upstanding’ businessman was supposed to do, although Itachi had never been quite sure why his private life was anyone else’s business but his own, so long as his work was good.

 _You’re an Uchiha, that’s why,_ he reminded himself sharply, and almost winced. Pushing it away, he took a deep breath and set about getting himself ready to deal with his normal life. 

_Yes, I am an Uchiha, and I’ll live as one, too._ He reaffirmed a long-standing vow, not sure of how else to go about the business of living; he’d been caught up in this kind of life for too long to do anything else.

 _Though, it has been nice…these nights…to just be myself for a few hours…to stop being the **Uchiha** , and just be **Itachi**._ He closed his eyes, and buried his face in the silk for a long moment, before folding it carefully and putting it in his suitcase. Fortunately, today was his last day in Singapore, and tomorrow he would fly home. There, it would be easier to center himself again, and hopefully get his life back under some kind of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) *coughs* Well then. My first sort-of lime...thoughts? :) (btw - if anyone ever feels like drawing me fanart of Itachi and/or Kisame in disheveled business suits, I would love you forever ;D)
> 
> (I'm sort of laughing at myself a little bit now over the "first sort-of lime" thing, but it really was. My desire for fanart of either of them in business suits - disheveled or otherwise - still stands.) :)


	5. Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 5. Not quite sure what I think about this one...anyway, enjoy! :)

This time, he lasted nine months before the slip of paper with a certain phone number came out of its hiding place again. 

He was in Paris, pacing the floor of his hotel room (two steps for each ring) as he waited for Kisame to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Kisame.” This time his voice, still dark and low, was full of frustration, anger, and other pent-up emotions that he knew needed some kind of outlet but didn’t care to name.

“Itachi-san.” No pause on the other end, just a smile that he could hear. “Where?”

“Paris.”

“Very well, I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

Itachi shut his phone with a click and resumed pacing. He did not want to wait until tomorrow night. 

He made it through the next day, somehow, but was nearly gritting his teeth with frustration when he got back to his hotel room around six o’clock, and wasn’t sure how he’d kept himself in control all day. He refrained from slamming the door only just barely, and kept from kicking his shoes across the room by an even slimmer thread of control. 

_I’m twenty-nine, for God’s sake. There’s no need to be childish, no matter how irritated I am._ Itachi glanced at his laptop, didn’t grant the TV even that much consideration, grimaced, and began pacing again. 

It wasn’t quite eight o’clock when the light knock came on the door, and he yanked it open almost curtly. Waiting only until Kisame had come in and the door was shut, Itachi grabbed the other man, threaded his fingers tightly through blue, already mussed hair, and gave him a hot, deep, nearly savage kiss. He felt Kisame’s surprise and ignored it, pressing closer when the other man’s hands settled at his waist. 

Much to his aggravation, though, Kisame pulled away, raising an eyebrow at him as his hands gently but firmly kept Itachi from moving closer again. 

Itachi let his frustration and growing desire show in his eyes, and tried to move toward the taller man again. That made Kisame smile infuriatingly, and he shook his head.

“Now, Itachi-san, it’s polite to at least say ‘hello’ first,” he chided gently.

“Hello,” Itachi growled, and tried to push the offending hands away.

That got him a chuckle, and Kisame shook his head again, blue-grey eyes bright with laughter and unconcealed desire. “Patience, Itachi-san, patience.”

“Why?” He kept the question from being petulant only at the last second.

Kisame looked him up and down again, thoughtful this time. “Have you got a pair of jeans with you?”

“Yes,” Itachi was puzzled enough to forget his frustration, at least temporarily. 

“Good.” Kisame retrieved his suitcase from where he’d dropped it and walked over to set it next to Itachi’s on the floor. Opening it, he pulled out something red and tossed it at the shorter man, eyeing him again. “Go put that on with your jeans. We’re going out to dinner.”

“Out?” Itachi hesitated. Being together in the hotel room was one thing, but out in public? What if… “Why?”

Kisame quirked an eyebrow at him, pulling some of his own clothes out of the suitcase. “Why? Because I’ve only been to Paris once before, and was recommended a restaurant that I never got the chance to try. I’d like to remedy that.”

“Oh.” Itachi started to protest again, realized he couldn’t think of any good reason not to go, and headed for the bathroom. He came out a couple of minutes later, his hair only half pulled back in a ponytail now, and attired in black jeans and the Renaissance-style shirt Kisame had given him. It was scarlet, complete with laces up the front and loose falls of fabric at wrists and neckline. It was a hot-angry color, looked positively sinful on him, and suited his current mood quite nicely. He liked it.

Kisame had changed into jeans so dark a blue they were nearly black, and a plain white shirt. He was contemplating the Jacuzzi that stood in one corner of the room with a raised eyebrow and a thoughtful expression, but turned to give Itachi an approving once-over. He ran a hand through his cobalt hair to settle the unruly strands, and grinned, bowing towards the door.

“Shall we, Itachi-san?” 

Itachi let his eyes tell Kisame that he would rather be getting into bed than going to dinner, but nodded anyway and they left. 

Dinner was actually quite good, and helped to soothe Itachi’s mood. The restaurant was small, out-of-the-way, and dimly lit, so they could sit in a dark corner and be noticed by no one except their waiter, which suited Itachi just fine. 

They walked the few blocks back to the hotel afterwards, mostly quiet, enjoying the lights of the city and the view of the Eiffel Tower. 

“Why so angry today, Itachi-san?” Kisame asked quietly when they were nearly there. 

Itachi sighed inaudibly and remained silent as they crossed the lobby. Once in the elevator, he leaned back against the handrail and looked up at the ceiling, contemplating. 

“I don’t like it when business meetings turn into thinly-veiled covers for political power games,” he said at last, quiet to keep his frustration leashed.

“I see,” was all Kisame replied, together with a thoughtful nod. 

Safely back in Itachi’s hotel room, the first thing Kisame did was cross the room to turn on the Jacuzzi. Slowly, the large, round tub filled with steaming water and Itachi was now torn between the bed and Jacuzzi. Kisame seemed to have no such qualms, though, merely sat contemplating the room as the water flowed. 

“You don’t skimp on accommodations,” he mused, not really making it a question. Itachi nodded slightly, but didn’t elaborate. Kisame knew who he was – that necessarily implied that Kisame knew he was rich. 

He wondered if Kisame was rich, too. It seemed that he must be, to come at the drop of a hat to exotic places like Singapore and Paris. Where did he live? What did he do for a living? Something with an easily flexible schedule, Itachi supposed, for the same reason. The object of his thoughts was standing up, though, and gesturing for him to get in. Itachi glanced over to see that the Jacuzzi was full and the jets were on, and the prospect of a hot soak was too tempting to pass up. 

It was odd to realize that he probably wouldn’t have thought to use the tub himself, if he’d been alone. He slipped out of his clothes and into the water, sighing slightly at the wonderful heat and pounding jets against his back, which was still tense from his earlier anger.

He opened his eyes to find Kisame, still fully dressed, standing in front of the tub and regarding him with unreadable ocean eyes. It was gone seconds later, though, replaced by a slow smirk that suddenly had more than just the water heating him.

Kisame threaded his belt back through its buckle, carefully pulling the leather off completely when that was done, and tossed it over in the general direction of his suitcase. Leisurely, he tugged the white shirt out of the waist of his jeans, letting it hang briefly before slipping it off over his head, also tossing it away. 

Itachi felt his heartbeat pick up, and swallowed, licking suddenly dry lips. 

Nimble hands returned to the jeans, undoing the button and slowly drawing the zipper down, to reveal dark green boxers underneath. Stepping carefully out of the pants, Kisame kicked those away too.

 _I just ate dinner,_ Itachi thought distantly, _I really shouldn’t be so **hungry** …_

Last of all and much, much too slowly for Itachi’s taste, Kisame took off his boxers. Just as aroused as Itachi now was, he smirked again and finally climbed into the hot tub.   
Itachi moved forward, but once again found his way blocked by a gentle hand and a smirk that didn’t work quite so well with Kisame’s eyes nearly devouring him like that…

“Turn around,” Kisame whispered, voice still steady. Itachi couldn’t find a protest and did as he was asked, then let Kisame draw him back until he was settled between the taller man’s knees. 

And then Kisame’s hands began working over his shoulders and up and down his back in a hard, skillful massage that quickly dispersed the last of his tension and left him nearly moaning with pleasure.

He felt Kisame lean forward, then heard his voice right next to his ear, hot and trembling, “Feeling less frustrated, Itachi?”

“Y-yes,” he managed, nearly gasping, then caught his breath and smirked in return, tilting his head back to murmur invitingly, “but not at all _satisfied_.”

A husky breath that might have been a laugh, and then the large hands were turning him around, the hot water flowing with not nearly enough friction against his already too-warm skin, and drawing him closer. 

He couldn’t help gasping as Kisame settled them together, rocking gently against him. Itachi quickly mirrored the motion, leaning forward to press their chests together, clutching at Kisame’s shoulders, wanting – _needing_ – more of that feeling.

The sensation of hot skin on skin, the ever-increasing pace and Kisame’s hands wandering over him, the taller man’s voice murmuring incomprehensibly in his ear…it didn’t take long before it was all too much for both of them, and they came nearly together. Itachi didn’t even have time to register that he had groaned the other’s name before Kisame was kissing him again, using lips and hands to ease Itachi through the last pleasure-shocks before sitting back with a long, pleased sigh.

“And how does that measure up for satisfaction?” The blue-haired man asked, eyes laughing, a moment later. Itachi let a small, brief smirk quirk his lips before resting his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“Mmm,” he murmured, feeling a bit sleepy. Kisame chuckled, then eased Itachi off his lap before rising. 

“I’ll get you a towel, hold on.” He was back moments later, partly dry himself and holding out a large, white towel for Itachi to step into. The dark-eyed man did, and dried off a bit before following Kisame to the bed. Sliding between white linen sheets and into a pair of strong, inviting arms, he settled down and dozed for awhile. 

He woke sometime later to hands running lazily over his body and through his hair, and tilted his head back to request a kiss and more through half-open eyes, which Kisame proceeded to give him. 

After that, he fell fully asleep, and didn’t wake until morning.

He supposed that Kisame must be a morning person, since he always managed to be up and dressed before Itachi without setting an alarm. Certainly, the man seemed awake enough.

“Going?” Itachi asked quietly, still lying in bed, when Kisame knelt to zip his suitcase closed. The blue-haired man glanced over at him quickly, then nodded and smiled. 

“Good morning, Itachi-san. Yes,” he stood, and came over to sit next to Itachi on the bed. “My flight leaves soon.”

“I see.” Itachi turned his eyes to the far wall. 

“Don’t want me to go?” Kisame asked, sounding the slightest bit hesitant. Itachi glanced at him quickly, but the blue-grey eyes were as unreadable as ever. 

“Just don’t want to go to my meeting,” he muttered by way of explanation, slipping his arms behind his head and not looking at the other man. 

Kisame smiled wryly and nodded, before leaning over to give Itachi a lingering kiss. 

“Patience, Itachi-san, is a virtue that you need to cultivate,” he said, smiling again as he rose. “Maybe with a little bit of pushing, you could get things back on track?”

Itachi shot him a thoughtful glance, then sighed wearily. “Maybe. Better to be merely frustrated, than frustrated and bored, I suppose.”

“Usually,” was the reply as Kisame picked up his suitcase and headed for the door. He tossed his usual grin and wave over his shoulder. “When you want me again, call…”

Then he was gone and the door had closed behind him. 

Itachi lay in bed awhile longer, contemplating the ceiling, thinking over Kisame’s suggestion. 

_That just might work. It’s only a few of them who’ve brought politics into it…maybe if one person has the courage to switch the topic, the others will go along. I’ve got enough clout, if it comes to that._ Feeling slightly less helpless about the whole thing, he got up and began getting ready. 

_It’s only two more days anyway, then I can go home,_ he reminded himself, quickly pushing away the knowledge that home wasn’t really where he wanted to be. He pushed away memories of the previous night, too, because they didn’t help. 

_No. These nights must stand alone…bad enough that I keep calling him at all. To even think of having it at home too…._ He shook his head sharply, and went back to fixing his tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) Well then. This isn't my favorite chapter, but I guess it came out all right. :)


	6. Cairo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 6. I apologize for the delay - college eats up much of my time, so updates may not be as fast from now on. Enjoy! :)

Seven months later, he was in Cairo. 

He stood at the window of his hotel room for a long time that afternoon, looking down onto the crowded, dusty streets of the ancient city, frowning. At last, reluctantly, he rose and crossed to the room’s desk, grabbing his cell phone and dialing the number from memory. 

“Hello?”

“Kisame.” His voice was quiet this time, low and the slightest bit hesitant.

“Itachi-san,” came the mild greeting. “Where?”

“Cairo.” He paused, then added softly, “I’m in Shepheard’s hotel.”

“All right,” Kisame’s voice held a hint of surprise, but he went on without comment. “I’ll be there sometime tomorrow evening.”

Itachi nodded, forgetting he was on the phone, and ended the call. He tapped the phone to his lips, frowning again. 

He wasn’t sure quite what was upsetting him about it (other than the fact that he was calling at all). After another hour of staring at the city and thinking it over, he decided his upset was over the fact that he didn’t have any real reason for the summons, other than that he wanted Kisame there. He wasn’t feeling an overwhelming need for sex, wasn’t frustrated over his business meetings…just wanted to see the other man.

Though what that was supposed to do for him, he had no idea. 

_Well, I’m not taking it back,_ he thought resignedly and rose to get dressed for the dinner conference he had that night. 

His meeting the next day went surprisingly well, and he went back to his hotel room with knowledge of Kisame’s visit hanging only in the back of his mind. He absently took off his shoes and jacket, loosened his tie and the top couple buttons of his shirt before sitting down at the desk and flipping open his laptop. 

Moments later, with one of his favorite symphonies playing, he was engrossed in an interesting analysis of some recent stock movements that had been mentioned today. 

_This selling pattern is unusual,_ he thought, glancing through the charts the analysis provided. _There’s some money to be made there, if you approached it right._ He read on, mind already at work on this new line of inquiry.

He didn’t catch the knock on the door until the third time, when it became slightly sharper than usual. Jumping up, he saw with a startled glance that it was already 7:30 and that he’d completely forgotten Kisame was coming. 

Opening the door, he was met with a wry smile and a questioning look. 

“Itachi-san. Busy?” Kisame asked as he came in.

“Nothing urgent. It was just more interesting than I had expected and I lost track of time,” Itachi said, going to his computer to shut off the music. 

“All right. Put on something casual, then.” 

“Are we going out?” Itachi asked, still a bit wary of that idea. 

“Well, I’ve never been to Cairo and I hear the marketplace is absolutely fascinating,” Kisame explained easily.

“Oh,” Itachi replied, once again unable to think of a good reason not to go. 

He changed and they left, heading out of the hotel and into the crowded, dusty streets on foot. 

The marketplace was, indeed, fascinating. Though normally Itachi had a great dislike of crowds, it helped to give them anonymity and was interesting enough that it didn’t bother him too much. The rich flow of Arabic mixed with other languages as merchants and customers haggled was nearly musical, and he found himself captivated by the huge variety of merchandise available. Food, fabric, clothing, household items of all varieties, animals, jewelry…antiquities. 

Though the illegal antiquities trade had been largely wiped out since earlier in the century and most of the ones currently on the market were modern reproductions, there was the occasional private collection of real ones sold and made available again, and Itachi supposed that a quick look in a couple of the shops wouldn’t hurt. 

He wandered away from Kisame when the blue haired man stopped to bargain over some odd knick-knack, pausing at a place that sold antiquities two shops down. 

He was gazing vaguely over the scarabs and statues that littered the window display, when something further back caught his eye. 

It was part of a papyrus scroll, covered in hieroglyphs and beautiful illustrations of whatever story was being told. It looked very old, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, but the main image, a depiction of two warriors on a chariot, was oddly compelling to him.

“Something caught your fancy?” Kisame asked quietly. 

“Mm.” Itachi hesitated, then pointed to the scroll. “That one. The drawings are quite nice.”

“Ah.” The blue-haired man peered at it. “Hard to tell from here…let’s step inside.”

Itachi followed Kisame through the low doorway. The proprietor was busy with another customer, so after calling out a brief greeting he left them alone to examine the scroll. 

Kisame peered at it more closely. 

“I suppose it’s probably a reproduction,” Itachi murmured, gazing at it. He didn’t find many things he liked to have around just for the sake of having them, but he liked the thought of this on his wall. Something about the clear competency and teamwork depicted was appealing, with the larger soldier skillfully guiding the chariot as the slender warrior aimed his bow.

“Maybe…” Kisame trailed off, frowning thoughtfully. “I’m no expert on antiquities, but if it’s a reproduction it’s a good one. Do you care much? I’d have to-” He stopped himself abruptly, and Itachi darted a glance at him before he continued, so casually it was hard to tell he’d almost said something else. “You’d need a bit of chemical testing to date it and tell if it’s genuine or not, but you could get that done.” 

“I see,” Itachi thought about it, then nodded. “Well, it’s worth a try, I guess.” He was turning toward the proprietor when Kisame shook his head. 

“I’ll get it for you,” the taller man said, smiling. 

Itachi blinked and frowned. “You don’t need to-”

“I know. It’s not about needing to. I want to.” He grinned again. “I haven’t bought you a present yet this time.”

Itachi blinked again at this blatant admission that Kisame was giving him gifts, but by then the other man was already bargaining with the merchant.

He paused, then let it go, another thought tugging at his mind. _What was it that Kisame almost said? That he could do that chemical testing for me? But he said he doesn’t know much about antiquities, so why he would know a technique for dating the scroll?_ He frowned thoughtfully down at the object in question, feeling certain (for reasons he couldn’t fathom) that Kisame was not lying to him. _Does it have something to do with his job? What would he do, that would let him know how to do that kind of testing and yet know very little about antiquities?_

His musings were cut off, though, when the shop owner and the taller man rejoined him, a bargain apparently having been reached. The scroll was carefully removed from its case and then wrapped up. 

Kisame waited until they were outside the shop before handing the package to Itachi with a slight bow and a grin. “Here you are.”

“Thank you,” Itachi had to murmur, feeling slightly embarrassed about the whole thing. Not that he wasn’t glad to have the scroll…he just didn’t quite know how to react to blatantly receiving gifts from Kisame. 

_I don’t even know what to think about our relationship, much less how to deal with presents and things like that. Should I get him something too? I’ve no idea what he would want._

He watched Kisame for a bit, though, and the quiet happiness in blue-grey eyes dispelled that idea. No, Kisame didn’t want anything in return…except, perhaps, for his company. 

_Well, I’m giving him that much, at least, for what it's worth,_ Itachi thought, sighed, and nodded at his companion’s query about dinner. 

They dined on native Egyptian cuisine, and Itachi discovered a couple of new dishes to add to his list of favorites, before meandering along again in the growing dusk. 

Music brushed Itachi’s ears, and he turned instinctively, following it to the door of a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Inside the dimly lit room was scattered an odd crowd of people around the raised stage that took up most of the space. Itachi slid further inside, feeling Kisame’s comforting presence behind him, and watched.

To one side of the stage sat a small group of men, all playing a beguiling, distinctly Arabian beat on a variety of drums and other percussion instruments. One played a high, lilting, wailing flute-like instrument, and on the stage a woman danced. 

She was dressed in what was probably a traditional dancing costume – loose, baggy pants and short top, with a half-transparent veil over her braided dark hair and the lower half of her face. The fabrics were all light, shimmering greens and blues, covered with gems and gold, with gold jewelry tinkling at her neck, wrists and ankles as well. 

And she danced. 

This was true belly-dancing, he thought, as she swayed and undulated in time to the beat that was calling to him far more than it ought to…

Dark, kohl-lined eyes, curious and teasing, caught his over the top of the veil, and she cocked an eyebrow, questioning. He shook his head, nearly imperceptibly, ignoring the equally teasing heat of certain blue-grey eyes on his back. 

He watched for a moment longer, then forced himself to turn and slip away again. Kisame followed without comment, though Itachi supposed he caught the slightest bit of disappointment from the other man. 

Just when true darkness was beginning to fall and Itachi was about to suggest they head back to the hotel, Kisame stopped and hailed a cab, murmuring brief directions to the driver that Itachi didn’t catch. 

“Are we going back?” He asked as they settled into the backseat.

“Not quite yet,” Kisame gave him a grin, full of mischief and the promise of things to come. “One last thing I want to see.”

“All right,” Itachi said, resisting the urge to lean over and kiss the other man. They talked quietly about the passing scenery and the city in general for the short trip, until the cab pulled up.

“Ah! Here,” Kisame asked the driver to wait and gestured Itachi out of the car. Itachi, questioning, followed. They walked a little ways up a small hill, reaching the top-

-to find a panorama of the Sphinx and pyramids lit up with the golden lights of man from below and the silver light of the moon from above. 

Itachi felt his eyes widen slightly at the stunning view, holding his bangs out of his face when the cooling desert wind caught them.

“Wow,” Kisame said, quietly impressed. “I’d heard this view was good at night, but this….” He trailed off and Itachi nodded slightly. 

“Yes.” 

They stood silently then for long moments, before Kisame sighed and beckoned questioningly at the waiting taxi. “Shall we, Itachi-san?”

Itachi nodded and followed with one last quick glance at the scene. 

“I must admit, though,” Kisame commented softly, also looking back, “that I prefer skyscrapers myself.”

Itachi blinked at him, startled that they had been thinking such a similar thing, but let it pass in favor of getting back to the taxi and his hotel room. 

The ride back was more than long enough to build up both their wanting, with the result that this time they fell into bed nearly as soon as they were in and had the door locked, and made short work of each other’s clothing. 

On soft, white linen sheets and with the moonlight filtering in through the light curtains, Itachi gave in gladly to Kisame’s hungry kisses, letting his own hands roam possessively over the other man. He might not have been able to let himself dance before, but here in bed, at least, there was no need to hold back. 

He woke once, later after the moon had set, to find Kisame once again awake and watching him with a look he’d almost have called fond, except that it was now too dark to really be sure. It was gone, though, when Kisame leaned forward to silence his sleepy query with a soft kiss, and Itachi decided that he was too tired to think about it anymore. Settling down again, and curling gladly into the warmth of Kisame’s arms, he drifted back to sleep. 

The morning was much like the others had been; Kisame was up well before him, and mostly packed when the dark-eyed man woke and stretched languidly.

“Heh,” Kisame chuckled, glancing over at him. “You know what I should have done? I should have bought you an Ancient Egyptian outfit and had you wear that.”

“You mean the short, pleated linen skirt?” Itachi raised an eyebrow at him.

“And the gilded collar and headdress…your hair’s the right color already, though your skin is too pale to really fit. Still…” He trailed off, grinning appreciatively at the image. 

Itachi rolled his eyes and rose, coming over to the blue haired man and stopping with his hands on Kisame’s shoulders. The grin softened, and hypnotic blue-grey eyes caught his. He let himself drown in them for just a brief moment before tilting his head back for his good-bye kiss, then moving away. 

He waited to nod at the habitual “When you want me again, call,” then turned to take a shower and get dressed as the door clicked shut. 

This had been a fun meeting, he realized, knowing too that he had grown to like how Kisame could always keep him just a little bit off-balance with something. 

Blinking at that realization, he shook it off and ducked under the hot water to rinse off his hair. 

_What is getting into me? These nights are going to my head. It’s just for the sex, really,_ he reminded himself sharply. Just to help deal with things.

If the reasoning rang slightly hollow…well, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about. It wasn’t something he could afford to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) Okay, Itachi, so there was this river in Egypt…it was called de Nile. And yes, someone may hit me for that one. ^_^;
> 
> (...yeah, pretty sure you can still hit me for that. But really, Itachi. How long are you going to keep fooling yourself? Oh right, at least a few more chapters.... *sighs*)


	7. Moscow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Okay. Moving back to college and starting classes has eaten my life, hence the delay. Still! Here is chapter 7. Enjoy! :)

It was another four months before he needed to go on another significant business trip. This one looked to be a long one, though, and he did his best to hold out ‘til near the end before making the (inevitable, as he’d come to accept) phone call. Finally, with the better part of a month gone and both himself and the apartment he’d rented for the duration feeling unbearably empty, he gave in.

“Hello?” Kisame answered, polite as always. Itachi did not stop to wonder about who else might call this number, or why. 

“Kisame.” This time his voice was quiet, and he didn’t bother trying to hide the soft wanting in it. 

“Itachi-san.” Kisame’s voice was warm now in greeting. Who else did he answer like this? Or did he only speak to Itachi in that voice, the one where you could hear the smile in it? “Where?”

“Moscow,” Itachi said, pushing the unwanted speculation away. “But I’m in an apartment on the west side of the city.”

“An apartment? Very well. I’ll be there tomorrow.” They hung up at the same time, and Itachi flopped back onto the couch, trying to push what he wouldn’t let himself acknowledge as jealousy away. 

_It’s ridiculous! I don’t even know that there’s anyone to be jealous of…not to mention that I’ve no claim on him anyway._ Itachi wasn’t sure why that thought bothered him, then realized that it was one of those things that he should probably forget. 

_Like forgetting that you like men at all? He rolled his eyes at himself. It was working, too…if I just hadn’t gone to Mardi Gras, I might still be forgetting that I’m more attracted to men than women…and then I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place._

He sighed.

He’d only ever been in one steady relationship with anyone; a girlfriend during his late junior and early senior year of college. After several months of nearly platonic dating, their few attempts at greater intimacy had been…well, not unpleasant, but not terribly satisfying either. They had come to the mutual conclusion that they would do better as friends, and had indeed gotten along quite well right up through graduation, after which they had mostly lost touch. He remembered her fondly, though, and thought that if he had been straight, he wouldn’t have minded being with her at all. 

After college, he’d had a couple brief affairs with other women (this, apparently, did not conflict with being an ‘upstanding’ businessman and son so long as it was kept discreet and didn’t become a liability), but these had interested him even less, and after a couple of years he had decided it was better not to bother. He put off his father’s hints at marriage with the (perfectly true) excuse that he wanted to focus on his career. Marriage for the eldest son of the head of the family was an inevitability, he knew, but he could put it off for as long as possible by concentrating on his work. 

He didn’t remember when he’d first figured out that he was attracted to men a good deal more than he was to women, but he did know that he’d spent a great deal of time since then trying to forget that realization. An affair – even a one-night-stand – with another man was unacceptable no matter how brief and discreet, though what difference the gender of his partner made in regards to his business life was another of those things that Itachi had never been able to figure out. Still, it was an unspoken rule, and that was why he could not afford to let it be known that he had slept with another man not once, but several times now, and was likely to continue doing so. 

That made him frown. It would have to end eventually, he knew. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, and he didn’t dare risk his father finding out. 

_Besides, Kisame will probably get bored with me eventually,_ he thought, rising from the couch to go stand at the window, looking out on the snow-covered picture that was Moscow in December. _I’m hardly the best of partners, only calling every few months._

The reason this thought made him unhappy was best not explored further. 

Shaking it off, he went over to the desk and pulled up the report he’d interrupted writing to make the phone call. _No need to worry about such things now. Maybe we’ll get bored of each other, and just let it go. That shouldn’t be too hard, in a couple of years._ He nodded firmly to emphasize it for himself, and then focused on his work. 

The knock came at 5:24 the next day, earlier than he had expected and only a half an hour or so after he’d gotten back himself. He opened the door eagerly to be greeted by Kisame’s shark-like grin and laughing ocean eyes. 

“Hello,” he said quietly, letting the other man (who was wrapped up from head to toe in a long overcoat, a hat pulled down over his azure hair) come inside. 

“Hello, Itachi-san,” Kisame nodded, looking around the small apartment slowly. The entryway was connected to the living room, which shared space with a small kitchen to the right. A door off the back of the living room led into the bedroom and small, connected bath. “Long stay this time?”

“Yes. I’ve been here almost a month,” Itachi said, following the other man to the door of the bedroom. Kisame deposited his suitcase near the wall, shaking his head.

“A month in this weather? I’m surprised you haven’t frozen yet,” he grumbled, heading back to the entryway to remove coat, hat and scarf. Itachi hid a smile. _So he doesn’t like cold? Not that that really tells me anything, but still._ It was an unexpected quirk in the normally easygoing man. 

“Business going well?” 

Itachi shook himself out of his musings to answer the soft question, moving to sit down on the couch. “Well enough. Taking much longer than it has to, but that’s how it goes.” He shrugged and held back a sigh. He’d deal as quickly and straightforwardly as possible, given the choice, but too many people preferred to add the long, drawn-out pleasantries and negotiations, and it would be rude on his part to try and hurry the process. _And rude is also something I mustn’t be, even to people I don’t like._

Kisame was gazing at him thoughtfully. Itachi quirked an eyebrow back, questioning. Kisame grinned and went to look out the window.

“Have you got a tux with you, Itachi-san?” 

Itachi blinked. “Yes…why?”

“Well,” Kisame turned to face him again, drawing something out of the back pocket of his jeans with a flourish, “I happen to have a couple of tickets to the Russian Philharmonic Orchestra, which will be playing, among other things, a certain violin concerto that I think you’re fond of….”

Itachi’s eyes got very wide as he stared at the two small slips of paper in Kisame’s hand. That particular concerto was his absolute favorite and he’d been terribly envious when he’d overheard a couple of his peers talking about going to this concert, but he hadn’t even thought there would be tickets _left_ by now. 

“You…you got tickets to the orchestra…for _me_?”

Kisame nodded, watching him carefully. 

Itachi looked up, actually smiling and nearly speechless with delight. “I- you- We can-”

Kisame grinned, putting the tickets away, eyes bright with relief and a matching delight. “Yes, we can. In fact, if you go change we’ll go out and get dinner now, and then go on to the concert.” 

Itachi couldn’t even think of what to reply, so he just got up and headed for the closet in his bedroom. Five minutes later he came out of the bathroom fully dressed to find Kisame standing at the bedroom mirror still fussing with his bow tie. 

He got an ocean-glance in the mirror and a raised eyebrow. “I suppose you have more practice putting these things on than I do,” was the blue-haired man’s only comment about his alacrity, but the ever-present longing was more obvious in his eyes now. Itachi would have returned that longing gladly…but at the moment he had room for only one thing in his mind. 

“Let’s go,” he murmured, keeping his voice low to hide the excitement in it and heading for the entryway and his coat. Kisame chuckled, but joined him seconds later, shrugging on his jacket. Itachi had to admit that the other man looked rather well in a tuxedo too, but that thought was also temporarily relegated to a back slot in his mind. He had no idea how he was going to sit still through dinner.

His partner, however, was unexpectedly resourceful at distractions, and entertained him all throughout the meal with some rather witty commentary on the other patrons of the small, high-class restaurant they had chosen for their meal. The fact that the food was excellent also helped a great deal. 

It wasn’t until a couple of hours later when they had finished and were riding a cab through the now-dark, snowy streets of downtown Moscow that Itachi realized they were actually on a date. 

He thought about this and its implications for approximately thirty seconds, at which point they pulled up in front of the orchestra hall and he promptly quit caring. 

The concert was as wonderful as he’d hoped. 

Here was where he had trouble sitting still, until the conductor raised his baton and directed the orchestra into the first notes. At that point, Itachi sank back in his seat, permitted his eyes drift half-closed, and let the music flow into him. The beautiful strains of the violin concerto that was the finale had him nearly shivering at their delicate beauty. When the last notes had died away, he was one of the first on his feet applauding. 

Their ride back to his apartment was silent, with Itachi still lost in the music and Kisame seeming to realize that he didn’t want to speak just yet. The blue-haired man did lean forward and had the driver stop a few blocks from the apartment building, and Itachi didn’t protest at the idea of walking. It was snowing lightly, and the flakes sparkled under the streetlamps like tiny diamonds.

They walked side-by-side, hands tucked into coat pockets against the chill air. 

“May I assume you enjoyed it then?” Kisame asked quietly.

Itachi shot him a Look and nodded. Kisame smiled slightly, then looked ahead again. They were silent then, until a question occurred to Itachi and he stopped walking to eye the other man warily.

“How did you know I would like this?” 

Kisame stopped a pace ahead and looked back calmly. He seemed to read what Itachi was thinking, because he grinned and shook his head. “No, I’m not stalking you, Itachi-san. You were playing that concerto the last time we met, and I took a chance that it was something you liked.”

“Oh,” Itachi remembered that was true, and started walking again. Kisame fell in pace beside him, and they finished their journey in the silence of falling snow.

Back inside, Kisame was quick to hang up his coat and move further into the warm living room, grumbling under his breath about the cold. Itachi watched him, only absently paying attention as he put away his own things, and then moving slowly into the room as Kisame discarded jacket, tie, and rolled up his sleeves before sinking onto the couch with a grateful sigh. Itachi stood near the entryway, uncertain for once as to what to do now. 

_How can I possibly express to him…?_

Ocean eyes, hypnotic again, were watching him calmly, giving away nothing. He glanced away out the window, feeling self-conscious. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing…no one really gave him gifts! Not things like this, at any rate…not things that _mattered_.

“Thank you, Kisame,” he murmured at last, feeling the words to be completely inadequate and still not looking at the other man. 

“You’re welcome, Itachi,” was the quiet reply. That made him look over. 

He could not identify the emotion that softened Kisame’s eyes just now, though the desire wasn’t hard to read. 

He was across the room and sitting down next to the taller man before he had time to think about it. Kisame made no move to touch him, though, except to raise one hand and lightly cup his face, his thumb lightly stroking the top of Itachi’s cheekbone.

“But thanks aren’t really necessary,” the taller man whispered, “I’m just glad you enjoyed it.”

Itachi wanted to ask ‘Why,’ wanted to know why it mattered that he enjoy himself and what that emotion in Kisame’s eyes was…but he leaned forward those last few inches and kissed the other man instead, because a warning voice in his mind told him that those were dangerous questions, better left unasked and unanswered. 

Their kiss was light, slowly deepening, like sinking inches at a time into warm, soothing water. Itachi thought that he might melt, could feel the slow heat all the way down to his bones from its source in Kisame’s warm lips and rough tongue stroking gently. He slid closer, sighing happily as Kisame’s hands settled around his waist and back before sliding up to ease Itachi’s jacket off.

The blue haired man lay back against the arm of the couch, shifting them both around so that Itachi was stretched out on top of him. They both moaned a little at the contact, but kept the kiss slow by unspoken agreement. Tonight was not for rushing anything, and so it was leisurely that Itachi slid long-fingered hands through cerulean hair and let his fingertips dance over Kisame’s face, exploring sharp cheekbones, broad nose and thin lips. Kisame paused their kiss long enough to smirk and nip at his fingers, curling his tongue around them briefly and making Itachi shiver. Strong hands rubbed slowly up his back, down to his waist and briefly lower before returning to his ponytail. 

“Bed?” Kisame asked into their kiss, and Itachi nodded with a reluctant sigh. He was comfortable here…but his bed would be more comfortable. 

They rose together and interrupted their embrace long enough to get into the bedroom and close the door. They took the next few minutes to undress each other carefully, with intermittent kisses, and when that was done Kisame pulled them both over to the bed. He lay down first and persuaded Itachi to stretch out on top of him again. The dark-eyed man did so, finding it even harder to keep their kisses and touches slow now with so much contact between them, but with a small moan held himself still.

He moaned again as Kisame’s hands began to wander lightly over him, and felt the taller man smile into their kiss. Normally, he might have protested…but not tonight. This was exactly what he wanted, this slow, exhilarating climb into ecstasy. All the cold and numbness that had been building in him for the past months was swept completely away by the heat of Kisame’s body and mouth, and this was what he wanted…

It was like waves, he thought dimly, moving to lie next to Kisame, hands urging the taller man to lie on top of him. Like riding up warm ocean waves of pleasure. They rose higher every time…and how not, with those strong, lovely hands touching him like that? They rose higher, but he couldn’t ever quite reach the peak…not even…god! Not even now, not even together like this, so complete…. But maybe now…rocking together slow and hard, hands touching, tangling together…close…not…not yet…. Rocking harder, deeper, riding up the highest wave yet with that warm, rough voice murmuring words he couldn’t comprehend…holding on tighter…to touch the peak and tumble over it, crying out at the nearly unbearable pleasure and breathless for the long drift back down to calm. 

Some little while later when they had stopped clinging to each other and gasping, Kisame coaxed him out of bed and into a quick, warm shower, washed him soothingly all over, then lead him back to bed. Itachi curled immediately into strong arms, mind still fuzzy with the aftershocks of such overwhelming pleasure (Why hadn’t it ever been like that before? What was different tonight?), and was asleep moments later as he felt the other man’s breathing even out too. 

When he woke in the morning, he was once again alone in bed, though the sheets beside him were still warm. He rose, stretching carefully and pulled on a bathrobe before wandering out to the kitchen, noting that Kisame’s suitcase was still open on the floor. 

The man in question was making breakfast. 

Itachi blinked at the sight and smell of pancakes sizzling on a grill he hadn’t known he owned. _Well the apartment did come furnished, and I haven’t looked in all the cupboards._ He sat down carefully at the table, resting his chin on his hands after brushing unruly dark hair out of his face. 

“Good morning, Itachi-san,” Kisame said, giving him a brief grin over one shoulder before turning back to the pancakes.

“Good morning, Kisame,” he replied softly, watching the blue-haired man deftly flip them. He frowned slightly, not quite sure what to make of this change in the pattern. “Usually you leave right away.”

“Do you want me to go?” The tone was neutral, but Itachi could sense in it an underlying wariness. 

“No,” he replied, “it’s just unusual.”

“Well, my flight doesn’t leave for a while, and I’m a bit hungry. Thought you might be too,” was the easy answer.

“Mm,” Itachi muttered affirmatively, and indeed he devoured several of the (delicious) pancakes as soon as they were set in front of him. “You cook?”

“It’s better than eating out all the time,” Kisame said, smirking when the dark-eyed man grimaced at the carefully non-revealing answer. Itachi sighed and nodded. Things he wasn’t allowed to ask…

They ate quietly after that, then Itachi helped Kisame wash the dishes and put them away. The blue-haired man hung up the towel, stretched and retreated into the bedroom, Itachi following reluctantly. He sat on the bed and watched even more reluctantly as Kisame dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a shirt before closing his much-traveled suitcase. 

“Going now?” Itachi asked.

“Yes.” He got a long, warm kiss and a tight embrace as a goodbye this time, and couldn’t quite hide his reluctance as he let the other man go. 

“When you want me again, call,” Kisame reminded him quietly at the door, then disappeared down the hall after Itachi’s nod. 

The dark-eyed man watched until he was out of sight, then went back into his once-again empty and cold apartment. 

He didn’t like to think about why Kisame’s absence sharpened his own emptiness so much…or why the other man’s presence had become the only thing that could ease it. 

Brushing his fingertips over still kiss-bruised lips, he didn’t fight the memories of the previous night, wondering once more (this time a bit more coherently) why it had been so much more intense than before. Sure, he’d been happy about the concert, and Kisame had seemed happy about their date (and what to think about that!) but was that really reason enough?

Itachi realized that the answer to that question was another one to add to his growing list of things that should remain unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) Well, there you go. Poor Kisame doesn't like the cold. XD
> 
> (I have always head-canon'd Kisame as hating the cold, heh. Still do.)


	8. London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> All righty then, chapter 8. It's a bit shorter, because I was getting bored with it, but it turned out all right. Enjoy! :)

Itachi rounded a corner in the office and was surprised to see his younger brother standing with their father outside the President’s office. 

“Father, Sasuke,” he greeted them as he came up, tucking the file he’d been riffling through under his arm. 

“Itachi,” his father greeted him curtly. “Since you’re here, you may join me in showing Sasuke to his office.” There being nothing to say to this, the brothers fell in step behind their father. 

“Niisan,” Sasuke answered his greeting quietly. 

“When are you starting?” Itachi asked. His younger brother had only graduated from law school two days ago, and Itachi would have thought he was due at least a few days’ vacation before picking up his position in the family business. 

“Tomorrow,” Sasuke sighed very quietly. 

Then again, this was their father. A vacation would be a “frivolity” in his mind, as was everything that didn’t have some kind of connection to the business. Business trips were acceptable; vacations just to relax were not. Social gatherings for purposes of making more connections were acceptable; parties just to have fun were not. 

“I’m not going to have time to continue my ninjutsu lessons,” Sasuke went on, still quiet so their father wouldn’t hear, but obviously displeased.

“You’re not going to have time for a lot of things now, little brother,” Itachi replied, just as quiet, his voice resigned. “I suggest that you get used to it quickly.”

Sasuke looked a touch sullen at this, but it passed. Itachi shook his head as they rounded a corner, musing.

Even their personal lives were expected to be free of “frivolity” – a hobby or activity was acceptable only so long as it was appropriate to their position and social standing. Itachi had been lucky enough to find a couple hobbies that he both enjoyed and fit these requirements: playing the violin was one of them…though he rarely played anymore. He almost sighed over the dust collecting on the case of his beloved violin. But if he got it out, it would remind his father that he _could_ play, and then he would have to entertain various clients and peers, which was no longer something he enjoyed doing.

“Hurry up.” Their father was waiting impatiently for them at an office door. 

“Yes, Father,” they answered together, the response automatic with years of use. 

“All right, Sasuke, this will be your office. You are, of course, to be here every morning at six thirty precisely, and you will, at present, be taking your orders and assignments from Yashiro, whose office is two doors to the right.” Yashiro was a distant cousin and currently the main lawyer for the Uchiha family.

“Yes, Father.” Sasuke nodded, and they all left the small, bare-walled office. Sasuke, after a curt nod from his father, headed in the direction of the elevator to go home for the day. 

“Come then, Itachi. You will show me those reports and then I have your next foreign assignment to discuss with you.” Itachi followed his father back to the older man’s office, and refrained from sighing with relief. Another business trip meant a chance to get out of this white-washed building, as well as a chance to see-

Itachi didn’t quite dare think about that here, but the knowledge hung in the back of his mind, beckoning. 

Three days later, he was in London. This was to be a short trip, and fairly routine – they had a small branch office here that he’d been to several times before. 

“Hello?” Kisame answered his call two days later. 

“Kisame.” His voice was low with relief this time. It had only been four months since their last meeting, but it seemed like longer than that. 

“Itachi-san,” the habitual warm, smiling reply. “Where?”

“London. The hotel is Victoria Suites.”

“Victoria Suites, eh? Well so long as it’s not Victoria’s Secret, we should be okay,” came Kisame’s laughter-filled voice. Itachi rolled his eyes, even though he knew the other couldn’t see him, but Kisame was going on, serious again, “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay.” Itachi hung up, still shaking his head. 

It was indeed afternoon, only just past four, when Kisame’s knock sounded on his hotel room door. Itachi rose calmly from his seat at his computer to answer it, greeting the white grin and laughing ocean eyes with a nod. 

“Good afternoon, Itachi-san,” Kisame came in and set down his suitcase. “I think that if we go now, we’ll still be in time for tea.” 

“Tea?” 

“When in Rome…” Kisame grinned again and urged him out of the hotel. 

So they went to tea. They stopped in a small tea shop near the river, drank England’s famous beverage and ate some delicious blueberry scones. Kisame had a great deal of fun commenting on the passer-by (quietly, of course) and though Itachi wouldn’t quite admit to being amused, he did hide a smirk behind his teacup several times. Hypnotic laughter in blue-grey eyes told him that he was fooling neither of them. 

After that they wandered London’s streets, taking in the sights. They saw London Bridge and Big Ben, rode a double-decker bus (on the top as Itachi insisted) and poked in various small stores along the way. 

When they reached the giant Ferris Wheel, Kisame grinned mischievously and pulled them both on. Itachi scowled at being packed in the big car with so many people, but forgot his annoyance once they were in the air and looking out over London. Dusk was falling, and the city’s lights were slowly beginning to come on. They both stood close to the side, and the view was so captivating that Itachi couldn’t find it in himself to protest when Kisame slipped an arm around his waist. It was hidden from the view of the other passengers anyway, so he supposed it didn’t matter. If he found himself leaning back into the embrace ever-so-slightly…well, Kisame made no comment. 

When they got off, full darkness had come to the streets, and Kisame made them get dinner before going back to the hotel. Itachi discovered that the famous fish and chips actually made quite a decent meal, and besides had no intention of depriving the blue-haired man his obvious enjoyment in this particular food. 

They wandered out of the restaurant and were winding their way slowly back to the hotel when Kisame stopped, frowning. 

“Something wrong?” Itachi asked, stopping also and looking back.

“I haven’t bought you anything yet today.”

“Oh,” Itachi thought that over. What did he want? A brightly lit sign across the street caught his eye. “I want some ice cream.” 

“Ice cream?” Kisame blinked at him. 

“Yes.” Itachi pointed to the small ice cream shop. “You can buy me that.” 

“All right, if that’s what you’d like,” Kisame agreed mildly, shaking off his surprise. 

So he got his ice cream. He finished up the cone as they got into the elevator back in the hotel, and was digging in his pockets for something to wipe his slightly sticky hands and mouth on when Kisame’s hands planted themselves on the elevator wall behind him on either side of his head. He looked up, startled, and the blue-haired man took quick advantage of the opportunity to lean down and swipe his rough tongue over Itachi’s chocolate-covered lips. 

“Well, you’ve always tasted good, Itachi-san, but this does add a certain…something…” Itachi gave him a mock-glare and tilted his head back for a proper kiss. Kisame chuckled, licked at his lips again, and then drew away as the elevator chimed and the doors opened. 

“There are much more comfortable places than the elevator,” he murmured, beckoning. 

In bed that night Kisame was still feeling playful, teasing the dark-eyed man mercilessly before finally giving in to his gasping, begging demands for more. At that point, they were both too far gone to hold out much longer, and it didn’t take them long to fall deeply asleep. 

Itachi woke up the next morning when Kisame opened the curtains. He blinked in the bright sunlight, grumbling, and tried to pull the covers over his head. Kisame had settled next to him on the bed, though, and prevented this move. He tried glaring up at the taller man, but suspected that being half-asleep spoiled some of the effect. Kisame smiled at him. 

“Breakfast is served, Itachi-san.” 

“Breakfast?” Itachi sat up enough to see the tray full of steaming food resting on the table. It did smell good…

He joined Kisame for breakfast, and then sat quietly in his chair as the other man finished packing. He rose only when Kisame stopped in the door, returning the quick, hard embrace and warm kiss eagerly. 

“When you want me again, call,” Kisame murmured against his mouth, then turned drew away reluctantly and left. 

_That,_ Itachi thought, _was fun._ He moved slowly into the bathroom to start his shower, letting the hot water remove the last, pleasant ache from his muscles. _That’s how things should be. Wouldn’t it be wonderful for every day to be like that-_

He froze. 

_What the hell am I thinking?_

Bracing himself and leaning his forehead against the cold tile of the shower wall, he took a deep breath and shook his head.

_No. No, I mustn’t think like that. Fun and pleasure don’t truly have a place in my life…that’s why these nights must stay secret. It’s all well and good to enjoy these nights, but they must stay separate. They can’t cross over. Ever._

He took another deep breath, let it out slowly, and went back to his shower. 

He did not let himself know that pain was what tightened his chest and made it hard to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) And the family makes an appearance! It's actually kind of nice to write Itachi and Sasuke and not have them be at each other's throats. :) As for the violin thing...well, I just figure that they're supposed to be "well-rounded" and that would include playing an instrument. Why Itachi likes violin in particular? I don't know. Maybe because it's a difficult, expressive instrument. *shrugs* :P
> 
> (Are there ice cream stands in London? I have no idea. >.> )


	9. Chicago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 9, only a bit late. Things get...interesting in this one. Enjoy! ;P

“…so I finally got the paperwork finished up, and can actually go tonight. Father wasn’t happy about it, but even Yashiro-san couldn’t come up with anything else for me to do. Sadistic bastard. Are you coming, Niisan?”

“What?” Itachi blinked, and jerked his eyes away from the container of pens on his desk. Sasuke was giving him a strange look.

“Have you heard anything I’ve been saying?” The look was replaced by an eye roll and slightly amused smirk. “The party tonight. Are you coming?”

“Oh. That. No, I was going to go home.” Itachi let his eyes drift back to the pens. He didn’t want to go anywhere. Not by himself.

“Is it because you don’t have a date? Because my girl’s got a friend who wouldn’t mind coming along with you, if you want-”

“No.” Sasuke gave him another odd look at the quick, quietly emphatic response, then shrugged. 

“Well, if you’re sure.” He leaned back, looking relaxed the way he only did when looking forward to spending time with his girlfriend. Itachi had only seen her once from a distance – a rather energetic blonde with large blue eyes and a bright smile, she was nearly as brilliant a lawyer as his younger brother, which was about the only reason their father couldn’t say anything (he wasn’t very happy about the blonde hair, but that wasn’t reason enough to get rid of her, even for him). 

_He’s lucky,_ Itachi thought, glancing briefly at his sibling with a twinge of jealousy. _He’s found someone who’s acceptable to Father. And I-_

Hypnotic ocean eyes laughed at him, though he quickly pushed the image away.

_Not here. Not at home…_

But it was hard. It had been getting harder, lately, to keep Kisame out of his thoughts, even here at work. He couldn’t say when it had first become a problem, but for the past couple of weeks, definitely, he’d been having trouble keeping himself focused. 

“You haven’t come to a party in ages,” Sasuke was commenting. 

“They don’t interest me.” Itachi turned his gaze to his computer, absentmindedly pulling up some stock prices. 

“They used to.” His brother rolled his eyes again. “But then, it’s okay for you. I scarcely ever see anything other than the office here and home, while you get to get out of here on all those business trips. Is that where you have your fun?”

_Warm lips…a hot tongue tangling with his own…large, caressing hands running down his stomach to touch-_

Itachi just barely kept from gasping at the unexpected wave of sensation. _Oh god…_ Taking a deep breath, he kept his eyes firmly glued to the computer screen. 

“Business is business, Sasuke. You know how Father feels about ‘frivolity.’” He replied quietly, to hide the trembling in his voice.

“Hn. That’s true.” Sasuke grimaced, then shook it off. “Even so, it must be neat to at least see all those places.”

Itachi nodded briefly. 

His brother sighed and rose. “Well, then, I’ll leave you, Niisan. When is your next trip?” 

“I don’t know.” He was proud that his voice came out calm and disinterested, instead of the frustrated growl it might have been. 

Sasuke nodded, and finally left. 

It was, in fact, another three long, trying weeks before he got to travel again, and he could not have been happier (though he kept that well hidden from everyone around him). 

It was Chicago this time, for a week and a half. He was glad that it was America. The Americans were nearly always willing to be straightforward in their business dealings, something that he appreciated – he could deal with prolonged pleasantries and negotiations if he had to, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. 

A week after his arrival, he came back in the late afternoon from a particularly boring day of meetings and decided that he couldn’t wait any longer. It had been three months, now, since the last time and he reached eagerly for his cell phone and punched in the number he had long since memorized. He made himself sit patiently on the bed while it rang, instead of pacing as he wanted to. 

“Hello?” 

Itachi’s habitual reply turned into a question at the sound of Kisame’s voice. It was low, a little hoarse, and tired-sounding. “Kisame?”

“Itachi-san!” His name ended almost on a gasp, and there was a barely concealed note of relief in the other man’s voice. It was calmer when he went on, but still not quite as calm as usual. “Where?”

“Chicago. The Radisson. Room 1607.” Itachi replied, frowning. 

“I’ll be there tonight. All right?” 

“Y-yes,” Itachi was surprised, but Kisame had already hung up. 

_Tonight? He’s never come the same day I call. And why did he sound so…odd?_ Itachi rose, still frowning, and gave in to his urge to pace. 

A few hours later, after changing into the green silk robe that had been Kisame’s first present for him and doing a little work, he was back to pacing again. A glance at the clock told him that it was 9:45, and about ten minutes after that the expected knock sounded on the door. He hurried over and unlocked it to let Kisame in. 

As soon as the door closed, Itachi barely had time to register how haggard the taller man looked and the dark circles under tired blue-grey eyes before the other had dropped his suitcase, pulled Itachi into his arms and buried his face against Itachi’s loose hair. 

Itachi returned the hard embrace hesitantly, startled at this unusual lack of calm. 

“Kisame?” he whispered, didn’t have time to say more before the blue-haired man pulled back just enough to lean down and kiss him, hard and deep. 

“Nnn…” Itachi clung to Kisame’s shoulders, and it took him a moment to regain enough composure to pull away. “Kisame, wait…”

“Itachi, please-”

The dark-eyed man put a hand on either side of the taller man’s face and gently made him hold still, their eyes meeting. Frowning again at the weariness in his partner’s face, Itachi lightly brushed the shadows under dull, blue-grey eyes with his thumb. 

“Kisame…what happened?” He was honestly unsure of how to react to this unexpected and disquieting change in the normally composed man. 

“I- I just-” Kisame stopped his hoarse whisper and took a deep breath, hands tightening around Itachi’s waist. “Please, Itachi, I just need you tonight. Just let me hold you….”

Itachi wound his arms around Kisame’s neck, immediately acquiescing to the request. This, at least, was something he could do. But it still didn’t help him to know what was wrong in the first place. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he murmured softly against Kisame’s shoulder. 

He felt the mute headshake and frowned again.

“Kisame-”

“I can’t, Itachi,” came the still-hoarse whisper, and Kisame’s arms tightened around him. 

Itachi was silent for a long moment before going on quietly, “At least tell me what I can do…”

There was a lot of desperation laced with the desire in blue-grey eyes when Kisame pulled away enough to look at him, but it didn’t bother Itachi too much. If this was what Kisame needed to deal with…whatever the hell was wrong, well he wasn’t going to complain. And if it would help make the desperation go away, then all the better. 

They fell into bed, and Kisame was quick to get his robe off around a hard, deep kiss. Itachi, now lying naked on the white linen sheets, arched up helplessly into the hands and mouth moving over him in nearly feverish hunger, knowingly hitting every sweet spot he had. For several moments he couldn’t summon a thought coherent enough to do more than submit, but gradually he regained a bit of control, enough to realize that this felt different from times before – more as though it were from a need to simply feel than out of desire. _Like he needs to remind himself that I’m here…like he needs to remind himself that **he’s** here…._

That was a jolting realization, but as Itachi pulled the taller man up for another kiss, he was surer that it was right. _Whatever happened, he’s feeling not-himself right now._ So Itachi pulled out of the kiss, and pushed gently on Kisame’s broad shoulders until the other man complied and lay back on the white sheets next to him.

Itachi kissed him again then, slowly and softly at first, then deeper, curling and stroking his tongue around Kisame’s. The blue-haired man moaned at the contact, his hands reaching out for Itachi again, but the dark-eyed man stilled them. Kisame’s gaze was questioning, but Itachi just kissed him again, before moving on to his own thorough exploration, with hands and lips, of his partner’s body. 

Every inch of Kisame’s pale skin that he could reach, he touched, kissed, soothed, caressed, until the other man was gasping and murmuring incoherently at him, hands tugging gently at Itachi’s long hair. The dullness in ocean eyes had been replaced with the hot brightness of desire, which was encouraging enough that Itachi complied both to Kisame’s kiss and to rolling over so that the taller man was once again on top. He wrapped his arms and legs around Kisame, and gratefully let his partner take them both into ecstasy.

Much later, at last calm and still twined together, Itachi reached up to gently stroke Kisame’s hair. “Better?”

“Much,” was the much calmer-sounding reply, muffled slightly by the fact that Kisame’s face was still buried in his own long, raven locks. “Thank you.”

“I am glad to help,” Itachi replied honestly (Kisame had certainly helped him to feel better more than once…every time he came, really. It was hardly a burden to return the favor.) “Though I do wish you’d explain.”

There was a pause, then a sigh and a brief headshake. “I can’t, Itachi. But you have helped.”

 _I suppose I’ll have to be content with that, then,_ Itachi sighed himself, tightened his arms around Kisame and let himself fall asleep.

It was slightly startling to wake in the morning with Kisame still in bed, still holding onto him in some last vestige of his need to touch and be touched. He wasn’t complaining, though. He watched the other man sleep for a little while, carefully smoothing a few unruly strands of blue hair out of his face, and took the opportunity to try and puzzle out his partner’s problem. He frowned slightly as he remembered a couple of mostly-healed cuts and fading bruises that his exploration the night before had revealed. He’d been too busy to do more than take note of them at the time, but now those, coupled with the fact that Kisame seemed a bit thinner than before, were clues to a puzzle he still couldn’t properly solve. 

_Like he’s been fighting recently…though I’ve never noticed any such thing before. A new development, then, or merely an infrequent one? Has this ever happened before during one of the longer periods when I didn’t call? He must have dealt with it fairly well, because he’s always been fine before. So this time I probably just happened to call right after it happened._ Itachi sighed, and glanced at the clock. It was early yet. He lay down and curled gratefully back into the warmth of Kisame’s arms to doze off again.

He woke for the second time a couple of hours later to find Kisame still in bed, but awake and watching him, one hand gently combing through the ends of his long, dark hair spread out on the pillow. 

“Good morning, Itachi,” Kisame said quietly, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, Kisame.” Itachi shifted to sit up. “You’re feeling better?”

“Much,” Kisame told him with a grimace that lay somewhere in between relieved and exasperated. He sighed, then got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Itachi remained where he was for a few minutes longer, but when he heard the water in the shower go on, he rose and joined his partner. 

Kisame did not protest his sudden appearance in the shower, but didn’t say anything else either. They washed quietly, and Itachi lingered in the bathroom to give Kisame the space he sensed the other man wanted. When he came out, there was a tray of breakfast on the table, and Kisame was picking through it. Itachi came to sit down across from him, and picked out what looked best from the offered selection. They ate in silence for quite a while, until Kisame finally put down his fork and looked up. 

“I must apologize, Itachi-san,” he began, but stopped when Itachi looked up, frowning.

“For what?”

“For…imposing myself on you last night. I probably ought not to have come this time…not until I was feeling better at least, and I-”

“Did I make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Kisame said, exasperated, but Itachi cut him off again.

“Would it have been harder for you to deal with on your own?”

“Well…yes.”

“Then you have nothing to apologize for. It isn’t as though you forced me to do something I didn’t want to.” Itachi, considering the matter settled, went back to his food. Kisame seemed dissatisfied with this logic, but after a couple minutes of trying to come up with a way around it, he gave up and went back to eating too. 

“Although,” Itachi went on after finishing his juice, “you might give me at least some kind of explanation.”

Kisame stared at him for a moment, before burying his face in one hand with a rather pained laugh. “It was a rough couple of weeks at work, Itachi-san.”

“At work…?” Itachi began, but stopped himself, grimacing. “Something else I’m not allowed to ask.”

Kisame nodded, and sighed, his face the calmest it had been so far. “No, you can’t. Not yet, at least.” 

This last was murmured rather quietly as the blue-haired man rose and went to his suitcase, which made Itachi wonder if he was supposed to hear it at all. _Not yet? But that means that someday…I would be allowed to ask him that – and other things – and get answers. But how…_

This train of thought was setting off warning bells in his mind, so (reluctantly) he abandoned it in favor of watching Kisame get dressed with his usual efficient grace. Once finished, the blue-haired man came to stand in front of him, and Itachi rose to accept his good-bye kiss. Instead, he got a very tight hug that he returned seconds later with only a touch of surprise, and then got a very thorough kiss, which Kisame seemed to mean as both a good-bye and an apology. 

Itachi saw him to the door, nodding quickly to the quiet “When you want me again, call,” and then going back inside to get dressed, thoughtful. 

_Well, this was…remarkably uninformative, given how upset he seemed. I do hope that he’s better now…I don’t want him to be hurting._ The dark-eyed man was not as startled by this realization as he might once have been, and went about the rest of his day feeling much better for having helped Kisame through a hard time. 

And, in the back of his mind, hung two, tantalizing words: “Not yet….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) I will merely say now that everything will be explained in due course. You will find out why Kisame was so upset...just not now. :P


	10. Venice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 10! Itachi has a new problem to deal with now...and has fun in Italy. *wants to go to Italy* Mmm...pasta. ;D

“Itachi. Come here.” 

Itachi turned around, startled, and followed his father into the study. “Yes, Father?”

“There is something we need to discuss. Sit down.” Itachi sat down in front of his father’s desk, and made sure his politely blank mask was firmly in place. He hated these interviews with his father. If it was at work, it was usually fine – it would be business related and he could deal with that. A talk at home, however, meant that it was something to do with his personal life – and that never boded well. 

_It’s not about…he couldn’t know…_ Itachi gave himself an internal shake. _No. I’ve been careful. He can’t know about Kisame._

“Itachi. You are now thirty-two, and have yourself well-established in the company,” his father went on without preamble. “It is time you began to think about fulfilling other of your duties to the family.”

Itachi looked at his father blankly. _Other duties? What…_

The older man sighed with exasperation. “It is time you found yourself a wife, Itachi, and produced an heir.”

“ _No._ ” His reaction shocked even himself – it was quick and almost instinctual.

His father frowned, surprise and displeasure clear on his face. “What?” 

“No.” Itachi repeated automatically, trying not to show his whirling thoughts. _No…no I can’t get married. Don’t want to get married. If I get married, I’d have to stop- have to give up- oh god, I can’t!_ “No, Father, I don’t want- I mean, I think that it isn’t the right time.”

The frown had turned into an all-out scowl. “Regardless of what you may or may not think, Itachi, I am the head of this family, and I have decided that the time is right. I have, perhaps, been overly lenient in letting you wait this long. There are several appropriate candidates among the daughters of our associates, some of whom you know. I was thinking of hosting a party in the next month or so to let you meet all of them. You may also find a wife of your own choice, of course, so long as she is of proper family and social standing.”

Itachi found himself fighting to keep his breathing even. He felt very cold, and was beginning to feel sick. _Married…to be tied down and in bed with a woman I don’t love…it barely worked with a girl I liked, how could I…_ The whole thought repulsed him, and he swallowed hard to fight off what he supposed was panic. _I have to calm down!_ He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then knelt on the floor to bow to his father. 

“Father. I apologize for my behavior. I will think over what you have said.” He rose and forced himself to meet his father’s narrowed, suspicious eyes. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Good afternoon.” 

The older man made no reply, but watched him closely as he bowed once more and left the room. 

Itachi made it to his room and got the door closed before slumping against it and sliding to the floor on trembling legs. _Damn it._ The strength of his own reaction now surprised him nearly as much as it had his father. _How could I have been so stupid? I should have played along, like I always do! What has gotten into me?_ He crossed his arms over his knees and laid his forehead on them. _I can’t believe I’d forgotten about marriage. It’s just been so much easier to forget…these past few years._

He shook his head. It all began with Kisame, didn’t it? So many things began with him. Looking back, Itachi realized that he ought to have been frightened by it all, but…

 _But it’s been wonderful._ He took another deep breath. _Maybe I can make this work. I can go ahead and get married like Father wants me to, and give him his heir, and then I can be done with my duty and leave it at that. And I’ll still be going on trips, so…_

Itachi did not like the small voice in the back of his mind that was whispering “Infidelity!” at him…and that the voice was not referring to his potential wife. He pushed the thought away and rose. 

_Fortunately, I’m leaving tomorrow on another trip, so Father and I can both cool off, and maybe I can come back to this with a clearer head._ He also pushed away the knowledge that spending time with Kisame was not likely to help him think clearly about it. 

Going over to the suitcase lying on his bed, he contemplated its contents for a moment before turning to his closet. _Two week trip…that’s all the clothing I should need…a book or two…what else?_

The silver of the locks caught his eyes first, drawing them to the bottom corner of the closet and the rest of the dust-covered, black case. Longing swept through him as he looked at it. _What if…what if I took that?_

He hesitated. It had been a really long time, as the dust showed. _It’s been what…some years now since I played at all, and a couple of years before that since I’ve played for anyone other than myself. I’ll be rusty as hell._

Still, the pull was stronger than his misgivings, and he knelt to pull the case out from its corner and dust it off. Undoing the closures, he looked down at the beautiful, hand-carved violin that lay nestled safely on the ruby velvet inside, its polished wood gleaming in the light. He let one long-fingered hand run briefly over the strings…

That decided him. He snapped the lid shut, brushed it off once more, then hid it behind his suitcase. He could cover it with his coat to get it out of the house tomorrow, and once he was at the airport it wouldn’t matter. 

Late the next night, he was safely ensconced in his hotel room in Venice. He knew he ought to go straight to bed and get some sleep, but it was early here yet, and he ought to try to get on a proper schedule as soon as possible. Besides…

The violin felt so good in his hand and on his shoulder that he had no idea how he’d let it sit untouched for as long as he had. He tuned it carefully, wincing at the first notes, but relaxing again as he got them back in order, and finally had to hold back a shiver of pleasure as he drew the bow over taut, perfectly-vibrating strings. 

He ran a few, hesitant scales first, just to warm up, then tentatively began to work through some of the pieces he had known before. He was rusty…but it was coming back quicker than he had hoped. _If I practice every day for the next couple of weeks, I should be ready._

An hour and a half later, when his yawns had become too big to ignore, he lovingly put the violin away and went to bed. 

As enticing as the thought of wandering around Venice was, he came right back to his hotel room every day after his business was done, and finished up any remaining work he had quickly. After that, he practiced. 

It was difficult, at times – he’d long since lost the proper calluses on his fingertips to protect them from the strings – but he was often so caught up in the music that he didn’t notice the pain anyway. And it was coming back.

With most of the two weeks gone and feeling rather better about his playing (and having mostly put the whole marriage-question out of his mind), he called Kisame. 

“Hello?” Itachi was relieved to hear the other man’s normal greeting, polite and warm.

“Kisame.” His own voice was soft, but he didn’t hide the longing in it.

“Itachi-san,” Kisame sounded glad to hear him, but not desperate as he had three months ago. Maybe it had just been a one-time problem. “Where?”

“Venice,” Itachi answered, still quiet. 

“All right. I’ll be there tomorrow night.” 

“Sure,” Itachi said, and they both hung up. He sat back on the bed and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Okay… He wasn’t nervous very often, especially not about performance-sort-of-things, but this was different. He really cared about being good this time. 

_Well, I’ve got tonight to practice too, so I’d better get on it. At least the calluses are starting to build up again._ Putting away his cell phone, he rose and went to his violin case.

He spent most of the next afternoon and early evening pacing, wishing that he could play, but not wanting for Kisame to accidentally overhear. He was relieved when the soft knock came around seven. 

“Good evening, Itachi-san,” Kisame gave him a shark-grin as he came in, and let Itachi run one hand searchingly over his face as he put down his suitcase. “I’m better now, I promise.”

“Good.” Itachi nodded, satisfied at the banked desire and calm in Kisame’s blue-grey eyes. 

“Dinner?” Kisame asked then, and Itachi realized that he actually was hungry. They changed into nicer clothes and went out. 

“I do love good Italian pasta….” Kisame sighed happily when two steaming plates of noodles and tomato sauce were set in front of them some time later. Itachi, still munching on garlic bread, took a sip of wine and nodded. They ate quietly after that, and Itachi no longer bothered to hide his glances when he wanted to look at his lover. 

After dinner, they rose and Kisame led them on a stroll that ended near a gondola landing spot. Itachi blinked at him, and he grinned, gesturing to one of the small boats. “It’s Venice – are you going to leave without having been on these at least once?” 

Itachi thought about that, then shook his head. He followed Kisame into one of the boats, and the boatman pushed off. 

Itachi found himself rather enjoying their trip along the canals of Venice, with all the old architecture to look at and talk about quietly with Kisame. He couldn’t help but feel that a romantic gondola ride was a little clichéd, but that feeling soon passed. They weren’t snuggled up together, murmuring sweet nothings, and though the boatman sang softly to himself, there was not romantic music playing in the background or anything like that. 

_Just as well. The music part will come later._ He was still nervous at the idea of playing for Kisame, after only two weeks of renewed practice, but he thought that the other man would enjoy it. _And I’d like to give him at least a little something in return, after all the things he’s done and bought for me._

Even having helped Kisame work through his trouble last time didn’t feel like quite enough. That felt more as though it had merely helped him know Kisame better, however little specific information about the blue-haired man’s life he had come away with. And there was still that half-whispered promise of “Not yet….”

 _Well, perhaps if I make an effort to show him more of myself, then he’ll do the same._ Itachi hid a smile at the quick brush of Kisame’s hand over his, and pulled himself out of his wandering thoughts. The blue-grey eyes gave him a laughing reassurance and understanding before Kisame pointed out the building that had caught his eye and renewed their discussion on architecture. 

They were only about forty-five minutes out, though, when they came to another landing, and Itachi decided that he didn’t want to go any further, enjoyable as the ride had been. 

“Let’s get back,” he replied to Kisame’s questioning look. The taller man nodded, paid their boatman, and they began to move back toward the hotel. Safely back in his room, Itachi gladly slipped into Kisame’s inviting arms, and kissed his lover eagerly for a few moments. 

He pulled away with a sigh and slight headshake before they could get any further though. “I’ve…got something I’d like to show you,” he explained, even as the hypnotic eyes called him back. The blue-haired man nodded, looking interested, and sat down in one of the chairs as Itachi indicated. 

Taking a deep breath, Itachi opened the closet and opened his violin case, pulling the instrument out and plucking the strings quickly to find out if they were still in tune. They were, mostly, so he quickly made it perfect, and then moved back out to the middle of the room.

Itachi couldn’t look at his lover, and was grateful when he did not comment. This was more difficult than he had supposed…he took another deep breath, and then began one of the simpler pieces he knew as an overture and way to warm up. After that, he went through all of the ones he knew best and thought that Kisame was likely to recognize. He let his eyes drift closed, fingers and bow flying over the strings through long trills and runs, drawing slowly across the longer notes, leaning and swaying with the music, putting all the feeling he had into the sometimes-delicate, sometimes-vibrant strains. 

Only as he began his last piece – a section of the concerto Kisame had taken him to see – did he dare to look up at the other man again. 

His lover was watching him with wide ocean eyes, amazed and admiring. Itachi didn’t take his dark eyes away from shining blue-grey all throughout that last piece, and let the last note fade out, enticing Kisame to stand and come to him, which he did as soon as the sound had died away. 

Itachi lowered the instrument with a sigh as the blue-haired man came to stand a few paces in front of him. 

“Itachi…that was…” his lover trailed off, that unidentifiable emotion shining strongly out of his eyes. “That was wonderful. Beautiful. I had no idea you played…though perhaps I should have, given how much you enjoyed that concert.”

Itachi found himself fighting off a pleased smile at the quiet admiration in Kisame’s voice. “Thank you.” He went to put the violin away carefully in its case, then came back to Kisame, whose ocean eyes had gone bright and hypnotic with growing desire. The taller man looked him up and down slowly, then frowned just a touch at the sight of his still-sore fingertips. He lifted Itachi’s left hand to his mouth, gently licking and sucking at the red places, soothing them with his tongue. Itachi shivered, and let him do it. “Kisame…”

And then he had been swept into a hard, strong embrace, and Kisame’s mouth was covering his in a deep kiss that had him melting almost instantly. 

“You…you are so…” Kisame’s voice was low and husky when he finally pulled away to trail lips and tongue down Itachi’s neck to his collarbone. “So….”

Itachi shivered delightfully, both the sensation and Kisame’s gasp adding to his own pleasure, and didn’t wonder too much about what thought his lover didn’t want to finish out loud. He twined a hand through messy blue hair to pull Kisame back up. Their eyes met for one breathless moment, long enough for him to whisper “Kisame,” pleadingly, before their lips met again and everything else was swept out of his mind. 

They were both out of their clothes and twined together in bed in short order, though after that Kisame pulled back, and the rest of their love-making that night was long, leisurely drawn-out and slow enough to tease them both mercilessly. 

Itachi slept deeply, sprawled out half on top of the taller man, his long fingers still tangled in mussed blue hair. He woke in the morning to Kisame’s large, gentle hand running up and down his back, through his tangled black hair. 

“Have you got a brush?”

Itachi blinked sleepily at him. That was an odd way to say good morning…but he nodded, and only protested a little when the other man rose and disappeared into the bathroom. He slid back into bed seconds later though, brush in hand, and had Itachi sit so that he could brush out the long, raven strands. Carefully he worked out the tangles with both brush and fingers, and when that was done, gathered it carefully back into a loose ponytail for him. 

Itachi, nearly purring with pleasure at the brushing (one of his secret weaknesses), turned to kiss him, and they ended up staying in bed for quite awhile longer. Itachi reflected that it was a good thing he didn’t have any meetings until later in the afternoon. 

They did make it out of bed eventually, though, and had a quick brunch before Kisame packed up and left. 

“When you want me again, call,” he murmured into their good-bye kiss, and Itachi nodded. He waited until his lover had gone before he let all the lingering problems in the back of his mind resurface. 

Falling onto the bed again and curling up among sheets and pillows that still smelled like Kisame and sex, he almost laughed at himself. 

_This, make it easier to think about the whole marriage question? No._ He shook his head at himself. _Though for the time being, it’s not really even a question. I’ll go along with what Father wants, of course; there’s not much else I can do. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a woman I can at least tolerate._ He snorted at this (given the group of women he was expected to choose from, this seemed highly unlikely), but let it go. _In the meantime, just going through the process of meeting them all, and getting to know a few and finally choosing one can be dragged out for quite awhile, and it will keep Father satisfied that I’m working on it. That’ll have to be enough for now._

Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and went to take a shower. _And besides, as long as no one knows I’m meeting Kisame on these trips, then there’s no reason I should have to stop._

Having made up his mind, Itachi nodded firmly and stepped under the hot, falling water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) There's that violin again; I just really like Itachi with a difficult, expressive instrument , I guess. And oh hey, plot!
> 
> (Plot of sorts, at any rate. XD)


	11. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 11! And the sh*t hits the fan... :P

“I hope we go back early,” Sasuke muttered as they left their father’s study. 

“You and your girlfriend can live without each other for a few weeks,” Itachi pointed out calmly. 

“So you say. Have you ever even _had_ a girlfriend?” 

Itachi refrained from sighing. “Yes. Once. In college.”

“See? My point exactly. If you had a girlfriend now, you’d know what I mean.” Sasuke went on triumphantly. 

This time, Itachi did sigh and shook his head. _I **do** know what you mean, little brother. I know very well what you mean. Just be glad that you can be with her openly._

The family was on one of their occasional, month-long stays in their New York home, and Sasuke was upset that his girlfriend couldn’t take the time off from her own work for a vacation. 

_And I can’t see my lover unless I’m on a business trip and have a hotel room to meet him in…_ Itachi gave his brother a nod and headed back to his room, where he sat down in front of his computer and made an effort towards starting some of the work his father wanted done while they were hear at the New York office. It was particularly boring work, and it didn’t help that he had thought of half a dozen ways to make it go faster. That however, would not be doing it the time-tested, accepted way, and therefore his father would likely not approve. 

_I want to see Kisame now._ He let his head drop to rest on his arms. His cell phone lay to the side of the desk, tempting.

_Well, why not? He’ll have to get the hotel room this time, but I’m sure I can come up with some excuse to be out for one night._

Making sure his door was firmly shut and locked, he grabbed his cell phone and settled down on his bed. 

“Hello?” 

“Kisame,” he murmured in reply, low and warm.

“Itachi-san.” Kisame was smiling, he could tell. “Where?”

“New York. Although, you will have to get the hotel room this time. I am staying at our family residence here…”

“I see. Hmm…is the day after tomorrow all right?”

“Yes.” 

“All right. I’ll call to let you know where I am.”

“Good.” They hung up, and Itachi sprawled back on his bed, sighing with relief. 

_Two days…just two days and I’ll see him again. It’s been what, nearly two months since Venice? And I had to put up with that party of Father’s to ‘meet the eligible young women.’ I’m glad there were a couple of them who were at least intelligent enough to talk with…and the one was nice enough to meet with again. Maybe she’ll do…for marrying._ He didn’t like how much trouble he had accepting that idea, even in his head. _It’s not a choice; I’ll have to get married, so it’s better to go along with it now and then maybe Father won’t feel the need to…‘help’ me pick._

Another sigh, this one resigned, and he went back to his computer. _Now to get this finished and come up with an excuse for being gone for a night._

Itachi breathed a sigh of relief when, two days later, he had made it safely into the anonymity of a busy New York subway. 

The hotel, the Avalon, was on the lower side of town, fortunately, and not right in the middle of the worst crowds. He took the subway most of the way, then caught a taxi for the rest. He went quickly into the hotel and upstairs, kept himself from running down the hall to Kisame’s room by a slim thread of control. 

It felt strange to be the one knocking on the door, but any doubts were gone the moment he saw Kisame’s grin and the hypnotic blue-grey eyes met his.

“Kisame,” he said in greeting, not-quite-smiling back.

“Itachi-san,” the other man replied, stepping back. “Come in.”

So he did, setting his bag down next to Kisame’s familiar suitcase and looking around at the small, elegantly furnished room with interest and approval. 

“Did it take you long to get this room? It’s very nice.” 

“No, and thank you.” Kisame watched him wander about from his seat on the edge of the bed. “The hotel room wasn’t difficult – I just had some work to finish up yesterday.”

“I see.” Itachi refrained (once again) from asking what Kisame’s work was. Not yet, not yet…but when?

Finished with his inspection, he sighed quietly and came to sit next to Kisame on the bed. 

“How is your trip so far?” the blue-haired man wanted to know.

“Well enough,” Itachi answered quietly, shrugging. “My brother is not happy to be away from his girlfriend.”

“Mm. I can imagine. Gave you ideas, did he?” Kisame sounded a touch amused, leaning over to him.

“Maybe…” Itachi sighed, letting his head fall back onto Kisame’s shoulder to receive his lover’s kiss.

They broke apart reluctantly some minutes later, and Itachi allowed himself a moment to just rest against Kisame’s shoulder, dark eyes closed and feeling…safe.

“I…would rather not go out tonight, Kisame,” he murmured after another comfortable silence.

He felt Kisame’s nod. “All right, Itachi-san. I believe there’s a small restaurant downstairs – we could eat dinner there or get room service.”

“Room service, I think,” Itachi decided, head still resting on Kisame’s shoulder.

“Very well. But you’re going to have to move, I’m afraid.” Kisame mostly hid the disappointment in his voice at this thought. 

Itachi suppressed a smile and sat up, letting Kisame give him a quick kiss before the taller man rose and went to the phone. 

Sighing, Itachi rose and sat in one of the chairs flanking the table by the window. After Kisame had finished ordering their food, he came and sat in the other chair. 

“How’s business been?” 

Itachi grimaced. “Fine, I suppose, given that there are better, more efficient ways we could be doing almost everything. The only reason the corporation is still competitive is because it is so old and has such a huge capital base. We do enough right to keep that going, but it won’t last forever. Another fifty years, maybe seventy, and the whole thing will go under, unless something _changes_.” Itachi rested his chin on folded arms and sighed. 

“Maybe you’ll be able to do something about it,” Kisame observed quietly. 

“Mm. Maybe.” Itachi sat up again when there was a knock on their door. 

Kisame answered, murmured a “Thank you” to the waiter, then closed and locked the door. “Dinner is served, Itachi-san,” he grinned, setting the tray on the table with a flourish and a bow. Itachi gave him a wry smirk, nodded regally in return and Kisame returned to his seat.

The meal was steak, medium-rare in a nice full marinade, baked potatoes and wine – a good Bordeaux – to round it all off. Itachi finished his last bit of potato with a happy sight, sitting back with his wine. Kisame finished then too, nodding with approval. 

“That was an excellent steak.”

“Yes,” Itachi agreed. “It was.”

Their eyes met over the table, and Kisame held up his glass, grinning. “A toast, Itachi-san?”

“A toast? What to?”

“Hmm…a good dinner?”

“Beautiful city?” Itachi rose and went to the window and pulled open the curtains to reveal the New York skyline, lit up and shining.

“That is nice,” Kisame admitted. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then suggested quietly, “Good company?”

Itachi stilled for a moment, then slowly turned around. 

“Yes,” he whispered, meeting Kisame’s eyes, “yes. To good company.”

They drank, onyx eyes never leaving blue-grey.

Itachi tore his gaze away as soon as he finished and turned back to the window to pull the curtains shut again. 

He walked slowly around the table, and waited only for Kisame to put down his wine glass before straddling his lover’s lap, threading his fingers into short blue hair, and leaning over to kiss him deeply. The other man’s hands came up to rest on his back and waist, but Itachi paused the kiss long enough to mutter “No,” and push his hands back to the chair’s armrests.

He smirked slightly at Kisame’s inaudible whimper, fought down his own desire to have his lover to touching him, and ran one hand down the blue-haired man’s chest. The other hand followed more slowly, undoing Kisame’s shirt buttons and pushing the fabric aside. He bent his head to lick and nip at the newly-exposed skin while his hands went to work again on the button and zipper of Kisame’s jeans. His lover made a stifled noise in the back of his throat and tightened his grip on the arms of the chair when Itachi slipped his hand underneath all the layers of cloth to curl cool fingers around him, stroking gently.

He trailed his tongue lightly up Kisame’s chest to his neck, pausing there to nip hard and then suck on the bite, wanting to leave a mark. Kisame moaned quietly and tilted his head to give the dark-eyed man better access. Itachi could feel the tension in Kisame’s muscles, could feel how much he wanted to arch up into his still-slowly stroking hand.

“Don’t move,” Itachi whispered, taking the opportunity to lick along the edge of Kisame’s ear, before moving to the other. Kisame nodded, drew in a shuddering breath and held still. 

Itachi kept stroking, gently, not nearly as much as he knew Kisame wanted, and let his free hand and lips wander over as much exposed skin as he could find, wanting to taste and learn all over again.

But as much as he enjoyed sweetly tormenting his partner like this…his own control was fading rapidly, and at last he gave in, rocking his hips down against Kisame’s, stroking harder briefly, and letting his lips brush his partner’s enticingly.

Kisame gave a deep-chested moan, and reached up quickly to wrap his hands around Itachi’s waist and through his long, dark hair, holding them pressed together and deepening that teasing kiss. Itachi shivered and gave in, groaning at the feel of Kisame’s hands wandering over him so possessively.

“Itachi,” Kisame gasped, pulling away from their kiss to bury his face in the thick raven strands of Itachi’s hair. “Itachi, I _want_ you….” 

Itachi drew in a shuddering breath, and with a great effort of will pulled away and stood up. Kisame let his hands fall helplessly back to the chair, eyes bright and half-closed as he watched the dark-eyed man. Itachi undressed, movements precise and economical, until he was standing naked in front of Kisame and met the deep ocean eyes squarely.

“Then have me.”

Kisame was out of the chair in an instant and holding him.

“Itachi…do you know, really, how much I want you? From the moment I saw you there…in New Orleans…. I wanted you then, wanted you _there_ , right there in the middle of all the glitter. Dancing? I wanted to show you _so_ much more than that…and you did let me…. Dance with me, Itachi, once more….”

All of it, murmured low and enticing again his mouth, his neck, his ear…Itachi gave in to the request without another thought.

There was no music, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter. He let Kisame move him, bending and swaying, and he almost could hear music, ocean song…. They danced, this time touching not just hands but everywhere they could, until neither of them could stand it anymore and Kisame spun him down onto the bed.

Lying there on white satin sheets, bare skin against skin, Itachi let Kisame show him the rest of it all over again. Drowning delightfully in ocean eyes of the deepest blue-grey and moving together perfectly, he wondered if all love-making should be done as though the world would end tomorrow. The ocean eyes filled with that emotion he couldn’t name, as though they had read his thoughts and answered ‘Yes, yes it should…it should be like that because-’…and Kisame was whispering in his ear “Itachi, I l-”…and he _heard_ and _knew_ what it was and understood everything…but then he fell from what must have been heaven, into darkness and down into sleep…and the knowledge was gone. 

Itachi woke the next morning, still curled up in Kisame’s arms, with only the memory of nearly-unbearable pleasure and a vague sense of something important briefly grasped and then lost. It was gone again the next instant, though, and he shifted closer to his lover’s warm presence, wishing he could go back to sleep. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was nearly eight, though, and he had said he would be back from his “conference” around nine thirty. 

He sighed and shifted out of Kisame’s arms, the motion waking the taller man, who blinked up at him sleepily and stretched. “Morning, Itachi.”

“Good morning, Kisame,” Itachi bent over to give the other a quick kiss, then slid out of bed. “I have to be back by nine thirty.”

“Ah. Well, go shower, and I’ll order a bit of breakfast.” 

Kisame was out of bed and sitting at the table with a small tray of food when Itachi came out, toweling his hair dry and mostly dressed. They ate quickly in a companionable silence, and kissed good-bye reluctantly as soon as they were done. 

“When you want me again, call,” Kisame reminded him briefly at the door, and Itachi nodded, smiling slightly, before heading down the hall. He could feel the ocean eyes linger on him until he turned the corner, and only with a great effort of will did he keep from looking back. 

The ride home was uneventful, and he walked into the Uchiha townhouse just a few minutes before nine thirty, calm and composed as ever, with nothing on his person or in his manner to show where he had been or what he had been doing the previous night. 

Sasuke, whose surly mood had lightened somewhat after a couple of long phone conversations with his girlfriend, nodded to him in the hall, and Itachi nodded back before locking himself into his room. 

He immediately threw himself into more of the work he was supposed to be getting done for the New York office, mostly because it gave him something to think about other than going back to the hotel and Kisame, which he definitely could not do. He might have been able to come up with an excuse for a one-night absence. More than that and his father would be suspicious. 

Itachi frowned thoughtfully. Actually, now that he thought about it, his father had been rather accepting of the excuse he had given yesterday for his absence. At the time he’d been too relieved to think about it further, but now it did seem a little strange…he shrugged. _Perhaps Father is just pleased that I’ve put some effort into finding a wife._ Itachi didn’t let his mind linger on that subject. It’s no big deal. 

He went back to work, and didn’t allow himself to think about anything else until supper time. 

“Itachi,” his father stopped him as he was leaving the kitchen later, “come to my study in half an hour.”

“Yes, Father,” Itachi replied, dropping a short bow before heading back to his room. _I wonder what he wants?_

Half an hour later, he knocked on the door to his father’s study, and entered with a respectful bow before seating himself in front of the desk. His father looked at him, frowning, for just long enough to make Itachi to feel uncomfortable, before pulling something out of the top drawer of his desk and holding it up. 

“Itachi, who is this man?”

Itachi froze. He had to pray that seeing Kisame, even if it was only a picture, would never again fill him with as much dread as it did now. _God help me…_ Somehow, he managed a deep breath and found his voice, though he knew that his shock already showed clearly on his face. 

“He is a friend, Father.”

“A friend.” The older man’s voice did not sound the least bit convinced. “Where did you meet him? How long ago?”

“Nearly six years ago, Father. In New Orleans.” Itachi answered automatically. 

His father seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before asking, “Itachi, are you… _sleeping_ with this man?” The elder Uchiha’s voice sounded strained, as though even suggesting such a thing aloud were distasteful. It still cracked through Itachi’s mind like a whip, and he couldn’t stop the flood of memory as he tore his eyes from his father’s face to gaze at the picture. 

“Yes, I am.” 

The whisper was quiet, filled with longing that he couldn’t hide. His father, speechless with sudden rage, had turned an interesting shade of purplish-red. Somehow, the memory of Kisame’s presence was bolstering to him, so Itachi looked up and went on. “Yes, Father, I am sleeping with him. I would remind you that it has been incredibly discreet – do please congratulate your detectives for their information – and that it has not interfered with my work in any way-”

“Not interfered with your _work?” Having regained his voice, his father rose and leaned over the desk, dropping the picture and slamming his fist onto it. “It has interfered with _everything_ , Itachi! You are going to get married in the normal fashion and raise a proper heir for this family!! That you should even _think_ of such a…a…mockery as this is unacceptable! That you have actually gone and _acted_ on it…. Do you care nothing for your honor? For the _family_ honor?” _

_Itachi winced slightly. “Sir-”_

_“Enough. This whole…whole _affair_ ,” he spat the word, “ends now. You will sever all contact with this man and never, _ever_ so much as think of it again.”_

_He thought he’d had trouble breathing when his father had first shown him the picture. This time, it felt like a small eternity before he managed to draw enough air into his lungs to even end his paralysis, much less say anything._

__Forget_ it? Forget _Kisame_? _

_“No, Father,” he said, voice more incredulous than defiant. How could he even consider doing such a thing? He wasn’t even sure it was possible…not anymore…_

_His father had straightened up and gone very still. Immovable as a statue, he managed to seem as though he were looming over Itachi even with the desk between them. His next words came out in the calm, tense voice of one who is only a hairsbreadth away from uncontrollable rage._

_“You will end it, Itachi, or you are no longer a member of the Uchiha family.”_

_Itachi knew, distantly, that his hands had clenched into fists hard enough to break the skin of his palms…but even that pain wasn’t enough to shake the leaden weight that had settled over him. He rose with almost painful slowness, bowed just as slowly and straightened again, wondering detachedly if he looked as shell-shocked as he felt._

_“I understand, sir.” Even his voice was distant. He turned and left the room, somehow made it down the hall and up the stairs to his own room, and locked himself in. He forced his legs to carry him the last few steps to his bed, where he collapsed, curled up enough to hug his knees, and tried his absolute best to think of nothing._

_Hours later, after drifting in and out of a hazy half-doze more times than he could count, Itachi finally felt detached enough to let thoughts trickle back into his mind._

__Kisame or my family, Kisame or my family, Kisame or my family…_ _

_The dilemma did not cease, was not any easier to solve, no matter how many times he repeated it._

__Disowned…to be disowned from the Uchihas…I have nothing else! My work, my life…everything belongs to or with the family… I can’t possibly leave._ _

__You won’t live, not without him. You’ll think of him every night, ache for him every night for the rest of your life. Without him, you’ll never be whole again,_ whispered the voice that pushed him to dance one night, six years ago in New Orleans. Had pushed him to live…_

__I have nothing without the family! No where to go, nothing to do…I’ve never known anything else! I can’t give it all up just for some sex, no matter how good it might be-_  
And then he stopped. Had to stop, because that argument rang too hollow to ignore it. Just for some sex…_

__But it **isn’t** just for the sex,_ he realized slowly, even uncurling a little and letting his eyes drift open in wonder at the new thought. _It isn’t. It’s about dancing in Mardi Gras – together. It’s about eating dinner in Paris under the Eiffel tower – together. It’s about seeing the pyramids lit up at night – together. It’s about going to fantastic concerts in Moscow – together. It’s about sharing breakfast in the mornings. It’s about helping each other when we need it.__

_He laughed helplessly and stretched out on his back. _No…no, it isn’t just about the sex…and he’s been trying to show me that all along. All along…he’s been trying to show me what it’s like to live.__

_He lay still for awhile longer, dark eyes staring wide and wondering up at the ceiling, letting the full knowledge of it sink in._

_But his choice intruded on his thoughts again before long._

__Even so…if I walk away from the family, it leaves me with no where to go and nothing to do._ He frowned, and snarled at himself, unable to see his way out of that dilemma. _At best, I can take a couple suitcases’ worth of stuff with me. That and some motel room probably aren’t enough to get started on.__

_Unless…_

_His eyes drifted over to his desk, to the small blinking light of his cell phone. He frowned. _I don’t know…don’t know where he lives or with whom or if he cares enough to let me- But-__

_He took a deep breath. _But I don’t think I can stay here…not anymore. I’ve grown too much for that._ _

_Itachi looked out the window to see that the sky had turned the light grey and pale blue that herald the coming of dawn. He rose, his limbs still feeling a bit heavy, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. Quietly, he took the few steps to his desk, grabbed his phone and retreated back to his bed, propping himself up against the wall. He tapped in the number with short, precise movements, then leaned back and waited for the answer._

_“Hello?” Kisame sounded sleepy, and slightly confused, but not upset._

_“Kisame,” Itachi answered, his voice soft with relief and his still unspoken question._

_“Itachi-san?” Kisame’s voice, though still confused, warmed immediately._

_“Yes. Kisame – I need to ask you a question. Will you answer it honestly for me?”_

_He could sense the other man’s sudden stillness. “Yes.”_

_“Kisame – do you care for me?”_

_There was a sharp, indrawn breath, and then half a second of silence before Kisame replied, quiet, serious and completely calm._

_“Itachi, I love you more than I have words to express.”_

__I love you…love…_ _

_That was it. That was the emotion he had seen for years in Kisame’s eyes and hadn’t known…that was what Kisame had whispered to him last night that he hadn’t remembered…love._

_Itachi let out a breath of laughter, relief too great for words. “Where do you live, Kisame?”_

_“I live in Florida. Out in the panhandle, and right on the beach. Why?”_

_“My father found out about us, and gave me an ultimatum. I can choose you – or my place in the Uchiha family. I have no where to go, but I can’t stay here, now that I’ve been offered the chance to be free.”_

_“Come as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting for you.” Kisame sounded shocked and relieved and hopeful all at once._

_Itachi smiled._

_“I’ll be there tomorrow night.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) And thus, the shit hits the fan. I don't like being evil to their father, I swear. ^_^;;
> 
> (This is a lie. Even if we eventually found out that Fugaku wasn't _quite_ as much of an asshole as he first seemed...he's still an asshole.)


	12. Florida

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original notes for this chapter (which was first published on LiveJournal in 2005) as follows:
> 
> Chapter 12! Finally, Itachi finds out who he's been sleeping with for the past several years... ;P

Itachi walked carefully along the trail of packed sand, his laptop case slung over one shoulder, his violin case over the other, and a suitcase in each hand. He supposed it was rather pathetic that all of his worldly possessions (those of importance, at any rate) could be fit into two suitcases, but he found that it didn’t bother him too much. 

It was getting on in the evening, though it was still plenty light enough to see, for which the dark-eyed man was glad as he made his way through the sparse trees towards the beach. The taxi had dropped him about half a mile back, and he had enjoyed the walk through the warm, salty air. 

The crash of waves pulled him on, though he kept to the roughly outlined path when it curved along in front of the edge of the trees as soon as it hit the beach proper. Ahead, set half on the beach and half in the trees, was a large, rambling wooden house, its boards painted clean white. 

He took the four steps up to the porch slowly, and took a deep breath before setting down his suitcases, carefully removing the laptop and violin from his shoulders, and raising a hand to knock softly but firmly on the door. 

It was opened seconds later, and Kisame stood there, the intense relief in his eyes belying his somewhat casual posture. 

“Hello,” Itachi said quietly. “My name is Itachi. I am formerly of the Uchiha family but currently taking the name of Aoru. I am unemployed, but I have plans to be the CEO of my own company within two years. I am thirty-two years old. I love you.” On an impulse, he held out a hand. “I can’t think of anything else important.”

Bright eyes laughing, Kisame took his hand, shook it, and then didn’t let it go. “I am Hoshigaki Kisame. I’m a self-employed chemical analyst, and mostly I do free-lance forensic work for the police and local Coast Guard. I am thirty-four years old. I love you too.” 

And with that, he tugged Itachi into his arms and kissed him. 

When they stopped that quite awhile later, Kisame grinned down at him, and Itachi smiled openly back. “Why don’t we bring your stuff in, and I’ll show you the house?”

“Yes,” Itachi said, and picked up his violin. 

He grabbed a suitcase, and let Kisame take the other and his laptop case before following his lover inside. The entryway was a small space set lower into the floor of the high entrance hall. It was wide open, two stories tall, with a slightly scaled-down version of a grand staircase sweeping up to the next floor at the back of the hall. Open doorways led into two large rooms on either side of the hall, and a long, antique table stood against each side wall. Straight-backed chairs stood next to those on the mirror-bright polished wood floor, and two smaller doors flanked the staircase on either side. 

“Wow,” Itachi said quietly, setting his bags down and looking around in awe. “This is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Kisame smiled proprietarily. “It’s a good place. Come on, I’ll show it to you.” They moved further into the hall, first heading for the door on the right. “In here is the parlor, which I almost never use.” 

Itachi looked at the large room, with huge front windows and many sheet-draped pieces of furniture, and nodded. 

“Across the way here is the dining room, which I also never use.” Kisame showed him the room to the left of the entry hall, with even the long table in the middle and the chandelier overhead draped with dust sheets. 

“All the furniture is original?” Itachi asked, as they turned and headed for one of the doors on the back wall. 

“Well, it’s all antique, though not all of it is original to the house. It was a summerhouse, originally, built back in the plantation era when the South still had slavery. I’ve done a bit of digging to find out who the original family that built it were, but I only started recently and I haven’t had much luck yet.” He led them through the left-hand door, into a very short hall and then through another door into a large kitchen. “This is where I usually eat.”

Itachi nodded, taking in the stone-tiled floor, the old cooking fireplace on the left-hand wall, and the more modern appliances that had been installed against the back wall. A well-worn but sturdy looking table filled up some of the open space, but it was obviously still much too large for just one man. 

“The whole place had been abandoned for some time and fallen into disrepair after the original owners left it. Then, many years ago, my grandparents bought it and slowly set to refurbishing the place. Most of the original structure here in the main part of the house is original, as it was built fairly sturdily to begin with. Some of the furniture is too, though whatever they couldn’t find or was too badly damaged to fix, they went out to various antique shops and estate sales to replace with others, so it’s all genuine antique furniture.” Kisame tugged him to the right wall of the kitchen, which held two doors. One opened onto a huge pantry, the other onto a laundry room (which still had its original stone basin, but had also had a modern washer and dryer installed). “They passed it, and my grandfather’s fortune, down to my parents, who expanded on both the renovations and the fortune, and then passed them down to me.”

“And you’ve been expanding on both as well?” Itachi asked as they went back out into that short hallway and through the other door. 

“Yep.” Kisame grinned at him. “These were the old servants’ quarters.”

Itachi poked interestedly through the small rooms back here for several minutes, before returning to the blue-haired man and heading back to the kitchen. A door near the fireplace that he hadn’t noticed before opened out of the back of the house. 

“I’ve got a small greenhouse and bit of a garden out back here,” Kisame said, leading Itachi through the aforementioned greenhouse and then out into the back yard. Itachi noted the beautiful tropical flowers blooming both inside and out, and decided to come back and poke around further another time. 

“The garage,” Kisame gestured to a smaller, building that sat a bit behind and to the side of the main house. “Used to be a stable, of course, with room for the gardener and the stable-master to live above.” Itachi nodded, but decided to leave that building for his later exploration as well. He trailed Kisame back inside, slowly taking it all in.

His lover took him to the other side of the fireplace in the kitchen, and Itachi noticed for the first time the trapdoor that was propped open. He followed Kisame down the very steep ladder-staircase with only mild trepidation, into what he supposed had been the cellar.

Instead, he found himself standing at the front end of a rather large basement, that obviously extended back well past the house. Sturdy-looking cupboards and tables lined the walls, and more tables stood in the middle of the floor at regular intervals. Most of the available surfaces were covered with chemist’s equipment.

“Well, it’s not quite chaotic enough to look like a mad scientist’s lab, though you’re getting close,” Itachi commented, teasing. Kisame grinned back, and gestured for him to look around carefully. “I have to check something quick.”

The dark-eyed man did so, peering into beakers and poking cautiously through a couple of the cupboards. He’d thought chemistry to be interesting, back in school, if not really in line with his own particular interests. 

_Police work, he said, and for the Coast Guard. I wonder…_

“Kisame?” 

“Mm-hmm?” The blue-haired man was bent over a tray near the back wall.

“What was wrong? That time in Chicago, when you were upset?”

Kisame stilled, then turned and gestured for Itachi to come to him, shaking his head ruefully. “It was too much to hope that you’d forget that, I guess.” Itachi came and stood quietly in his lover’s arms while the taller man hesitated. 

“In all honesty, I still can’t really tell you all that much,” he said at last, “but perhaps a little bit would be all right. I told you I mostly do police work. It pays well, especially because I can do some things that many chemists can’t, and has a flexible schedule because I am a specialist and because I work free lance. They call me in when their guys are having trouble, and otherwise I get to do my own thing. It’s not as though I _need_ the money, I just enjoy the work, and it’s good learning experience. But sometimes-” he stopped, and sighed. “I must ask that the rest of this not leave this room.”

Itachi nodded immediately. No question of that – his loyalties were anything but divided.

“Well, very occasionally, I also do work for the CIA. It’s usually a lot like the normal police work I do, but a couple times they’ve needed me for actual fieldwork. Right before Chicago was one of those…I really can’t say much more. Just that it was a long case that was very exhausting – both physically and emotionally.” His arms tightened briefly around the smaller man. “I had one like it before I met you, and let me say that it was much, much easier to deal with this time, when I could come to you.”

Itachi returned the embrace, thinking that over, then nodded. “And now I will be even easier to find, if it has to happen again.” 

“Yes,” Kisame whispered into his hair, the relief and joy in his voice only partly muffled. “Yes, you will.” 

They stood like that for a little while, just holding each other, until finally Kisame stirred. He took one more glance at the tray, nodded, and then ushered Itachi back upstairs. “We’ve still got the whole second floor to see.”

The staircase was indeed fun to sweep elegantly up, Itachi discovered, and didn’t quite succeed in hiding his amusement from Kisame, who grinned at him. “It’s mostly bedrooms up here. It was a summer house, so I’m guessing they did a lot of entertaining, hence the large kitchen and dining room.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, they first went left, and poked into a couple of the dust-and-sheet shrouded bedrooms. One, though sheet-covered like the rest, had obviously been used sometime not too many years ago; the walls were light blue, and a wallpaper border of brightly colored fish ran around the room near the ceiling. 

“My bedroom when I was little,” Kisame explained with a fond smile. “The bed’s a bit small for me now.” Itachi hid a smile at the thought and nodded. 

There was a small, private sitting room between the next couple of bedrooms, and then a study, which Kisame obviously still used. Bookshelves lined the walls, and on the old, huge antique desk sat a very modern computer, with various papers and folders scattered about.

“And this,” Kisame said, pushing the last door on the right end of the hall open with a grin and a flourish, “will be your bedroom.”

Itachi walked into the master bedroom, taking in the large, red maple dresser, the walk-in closet with its door partly shut, and the huge bed with antique carved wooden frame and headboard. Knick-knacks and personal items littered the top of the dresser and nightstand, Itachi was pleased to note. He took the violin case (which hadn’t left his side all throughout the tour of the house) and set it carefully in a corner near the bed. 

“Satisfactory?” Kisame asked, voice full of laughter and ill-concealed joy. 

“Mm. Except for one thing…” Itachi turned back to his lover, who looked back at him, puzzled.

“I shall want to try out the bed, to make sure that it is acceptable.”

“I see. You’ll be wanting to try it with all the…extras, yes?”

“Of course,” Itachi said, smirking and moving to lie down on the furniture in question, letting his onyx eyes beckon silently to his lover. 

Kisame closed the door, and came to join him, desire and love already deepening his eyes to blue. 

“I think that can be arranged,” he whispered just before their lips met.

And somehow, the knowledge that they could make love in this bed every night for the rest of their lives only made it that much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) Many thanks to leathansparrow for helping me figure out what Kisame's house looks like, and for being my beta. :)


	13. Epilogue

Itachi took a moment to lean back in his chair and catch his breath. He looked around his new office proudly. _I haven’t had much chance to enjoy it yet,_ he mused. _It’s been so busy all day._ He smirked, pleased at the thought. _Which is as it should be._

He sat for a moment more, thinking over what else he had to get done. _Quite a bit…but I could take a couple more minutes._

He pulled out his cell phone and hit the first number on the speed dial. 

“Hello?”

“Kisame,” Itachi answered easily.

“Itachi,” Kisame sounded slightly surprised, but still happy to hear him. Laughter filled his voice as he went on with the pattern they hadn’t had to use for months. “Where?”

“Akatsuki Enterprises, Inc.,” Itachi said, knowing Kisame could hear his smirk. “The CEO’s office.”

“ _CEO_? Already?” His lover sounded shocked and pleased.

“Yes. I wanted to surprise you. I just started today,” Itachi said quietly. “It took awhile, but-”

“Itachi,” Kisame said, sounding both proud and slightly exasperated. “It hasn’t even _been_ a full two years yet, and you’ve gone from a low-level manager to CEO! ‘It took awhile’ my….”

Itachi smiled as his lover’s grumbling died off. “True. It’s only been a year and nine months.”

“Exactly.” Kisame finished up his grumbling. He went on quietly. “That’s wonderful, though. I don’t know anyone else intelligent and dedicated enough to pull something like that off.”

“Thank you,” Itachi murmured back. 

“Welcome.” They shared a moment of silence that said more than words ever could before Kisame went on. “Umm…you don’t actually want me to come up now, do you?”

“No, not now,” Itachi smiled again. “I’ve got too much to get done before I can come home.”

“Okay, good. I’ve got an experiment going downstairs that I’ll need to be around for in an hour or so.”

“All right,” Itachi said, sighing fondly. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yep. Have fun.” 

“Bye,” Itachi hung up.

He sat quietly for another minute, still reveling in the knowledge that “going home” was something he could look forward too, as was “going to work.” 

Then there was another knock on the door, his secretary called him, and he eagerly got back to work.

\-- 

Itachi took a deep breath of warm, salty ocean air as he walked toward the house, shoes clicking against the bleached stone of the front walk. 

The door was opened as he drew near, and Kisame leaned against the sill, raking a hand through already disheveled hair and grinning at him. “Hey, stranger.”

“Hey yourself,” Itachi murmured, and tried to slip inside, but Kisame effectively stopped him with an arm around his waist. 

“Don’t I get to congratulate you, Mr. CEO?” Ocean eyes (the same color as the sea outside, indeed) were powerfully hypnotic, the warm voice laughing and possessive. 

Itachi dropped his briefcase and wound his arms around Kisame’s neck for one of the deep, aching-slow kisses that he’d been addicted to for so long, and still couldn’t get enough of. 

“Welcome home,” Kisame breathed when they finally broke apart.

“Yes,” Itachi followed him inside, and let the happy, possessive feeling of _belonging_ wash over him. “I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Original end notes:) And there you have it, Nights in White Satin. It's been fun. Extra special thanks for [leathansparrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leathansparrow) for seeing me through this. The sequel, Days in Good Company, will follow shortly. ^_^ Comments/concrit appreciated, as always!

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! That's a lot to format all in one day. If anyone catches anything that I missed, please let me know! 
> 
> It's been interesting going back through this, really, and seeing where my writing and my thoughts about these characters were 10 years ago. This is not the story that I would write today, if I were to take the same idea and try it now, but I think that's all right. It does still strike me as being OOC to a certain extent, but that was almost inevitable, really, given how little we knew about either of them at the time from canon. 
> 
> Still, I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it, and kudos/comments are always greatly appreciated. :)
> 
> I'm planning to put the sequel, Days in Good Company, up here on AO3 as well, but not today.


End file.
